


Catacomb Kids

by worldswrst (thehotinpsychotic)



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-04-07 03:00:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 21,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4246911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehotinpsychotic/pseuds/worldswrst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started when Frank began his project for visual arts. Gerard gave him the idea to film his typical day-to-day life, and so that's just what Frank did. Through mounds of footage, Frank begins to get a new outlook on the relationships and people that surround him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. With A Little Help From My Friends

I was never much for being creative. Even when I was little, everything from my finger paintings to my Halloween costumes could be compared to about 9,000 carbon copies across the globe. It’s not that I didn’t have ideas, it’s just that these ideas were mass produced by kids, who, just like me, had a brain that worked the same way a lot of other people’s did.

            I was a victim of common brain syndrome. Everything I wrote, drew, or said, had already been done at some point by some other suffering individual. This made me, Frank Iero, illegible for any sort of creative leadership opportunities. Those kind of things were more up Gerard’s alley.

            Gerard Way was my best friend. He was this chubby sort of kid, but he made up for it by being about a head or two taller than me. He was almost embarrassingly pale, and he had this unkempt, greasy black hair that fell to about his jawline. He really didn’t care about much; he was barely sliding through junior year with four Cs, one B and two Ds. He had a B in physical education, and he would have an A if he actually showed up to half of the classes.

            Gerard had gym third hour, which was incidentally my study hall. So basically, I’d offer to collect attendance slips from the classroom with some random student, ditch them, and nip off under the bleachers where Gerard would meet me. Gerard never gave excuses to his teacher for leaving, and I think that after a while the teacher stopped asking where he’d been.

            These periods of free time were usually reserved for recreational marijuana usage, but if we were feeling particularly adventurous we’d sometimes head out on foot to the comic book store a couple of blocks over. Gerard would lie about being out of school; it wasn’t hard for him to pass as eighteen or even older. I, on the other hand, would make up some lie about being his younger brother out on a trip to a doctor’s appointment or some bullshit like that. Even my lies were cookie cutter average.

            Anyways, back to the main idea here: I was a practical thinker, not a creative one.

            So when my visual arts teacher gave us no boundaries, limits, or guidelines for our semester project, I was panicking a little bit. I had no idea what I was going to do. You might be thinking that I shouldn’t have taken visual arts in the first place, but at my school, it was practically required. I had an A in the class thanks to a lot of outside influence on what my projects should be, but this time, I was stuck. It was funny how whenever teachers let our imaginations run wild, that’s when my compromised artistic flow stopped.

            Not only was I worried about finding a topic, but the looming idea of choosing the wrong subject ran around my head as well. I couldn’t imagine failing our semester test project; it would drop my grade an entire letter at least. I couldn’t stand the thought of it, so I knew I had to take action and find an amazing subject for the project, the sooner the better.

            There was the conflict. The haunting, intimidating, quiver-inducing conflict. I had yet to find my solution, but I was actively searching for one. So, what did I do? Of course, I turned to Gerard.

            It was that night that I’d begged him for motivation. We were lying in his basement of a bedroom; he sprawled from the head of the bed to the adjacent nightstand, and I curled up on the rest of the twin sized mattress.

            I gave the due date for the project as well as all my fears about it, and finally, my need for a good grade. I ended the sentence with, “So, Mr. Mad Genius. Hit me with an idea.”

            Gerard lay there, staring up at the ceiling. He scratched the side of his nose, sighing. “Well, shit. I dunno, Frankie.”

            I scoffed. “Are you joking? The one time I need to be hit with one of those thoughts of yours, and you don’t have one.”

            Gerard began to pick at a scab on his forearm, then suggesting, “Film us, I guess.”

            “Yeah, because we’re soooo interesting,” I mocked.

            “No, I’m serious,” Gerard replied. “Like, film your day from when you wake up to when you fall asleep. It’d be really cool, you know? Make it like a movie.” He flicked some of his scab he’d peeled off onto the floor. “Then wrap it up with some sort of reflection.”

            “That… that could work,” I realized.

            “Yeah, no shit,” Gerard muttered, pulling a cigarette from his shirt pocket. He lit the thing and stood, walking swiftly for the basement door. Gerard was lucky to have that screen door leading outside just ten feet away from his bedroom; how else was he supposed to smoke without his parents knowing?

            I remained in his bed, trying to iron out the details in my head. Although, there wasn’t much to sort. It was a simple enough idea, a video journal almost. I could always just film everything and then deal with the finer points later. Voiceovers would be nice, but I wasn’t so sure about that reflection garbage. I mean, what would I have to say about my shitty school and the shitty people that go there? Sure, I have my friends, but even when it comes to them I can’t form the words I mean to say.

            I didn’t totally dismiss the idea, but I still wasn’t fond of it. I put it on the back burner mostly for Gerard’s sake; I kept the option in mind so he could go to sleep at night telling himself it was valid. Gerard is fragile like that.

            Gerard returned within the next ten minutes, smelling only faintly of smoke. He made himself comfortable once again in his bed, and I did my best to try to relax a little.

            But taking it easy was a lot less work at that point; I had my topic. 


	2. Hang Me Up to Dry

          The filming didn’t start too long after Gerard suggested the project. I fired up my camcorder for convenience’s sake that Monday, starting from when I woke up.

          I rolled over in bed, reaching to my nightstand and groping for my camera. Once I found it, I opened that sucker up and started filming. I yawned, deciding against a monologue as I went through my morning routine, footage rolling. That sort of stuff could always be done later.

          On my walk to school, I focused the camera on the ground, at the dim November sky, and at anything interesting really. Which, in suburbia, there were a lot of things that you wouldn’t look twice at, so you had to work to find the beauty in them.

          I filmed my shoes kicking at stray pebbles across the shattered sidewalks, shot a few stray birds gliding across the sky. As I trudged along, I remembered that I wasn’t exactly in a nice part of town. Then again, there weren't exactly ‘nice parts’ in Bellville. There’s just slightly less horrifyingly violent and shady parts. Maybe where I am someone might cut your finger off, but across town on the west side, they’d take the whole hand.

          I ran into Mikey and Gerard almost immediately after reaching school. And by running into them, I mean that I waited by their empty parking spot until their car rolled in.

          “Hey,” Gerard greeted, rolling down his window. The first thing he did was shove his middle finger into the camera lens.

          I wiped the thing off on my sleeve, smearing off the oils from Gerard’s hands. “Keep your scummy fingers away from my camera.”

          “Oh yeah? Away from the camera, huh?” Gerard asked. He stuck the tip of his pointer finger into his mouth, sucking on it before reaching over and sticking it in my ear.

          I squirmed, shoving him away. “Gross dude!”

          Gerard burst out laughing, finally pulling his keys from the ignition. His car had been running since he parked; he always leaves his car running, or even forgets to turn the headlights off. No wonder it’s such a piece of shit.

          I filmed Gerard, then crawling through the window and over him to get a shot of Mikey. “Mikey, hi.”

          Mikey gazed down into the camera, grinning. “Sup, dude?”

          “Get off me!” Gerard protested, writhing beneath me. He grabbed me by the back of my blazer and yanked me backward; my head narrowly missed the ceiling of the car. He shoved me back through the window, then opening the car door and nearly slamming it into my leg.

          Gerard closed the door, waiting for Mikey to get out too before starting towards the school building.

          It was nice enough out so that kids were hanging around the front of the school. The fountain, as usual, was occupied by some of the more popular kids. We pushed through the throng of students, and I actually got pretty far before being stopped.

          “Hey! Iero!”

          The shout came from Ben, this senior who used to ride Gerard’s ass for the hell of it. That was our freshman year, before Gerard had the guts to stand up to anybody. Nowadays he’s, for the most part, harassment free. No one bullies him, per say, but there’s still times where he’s the butt of a joke. I still thought that Ben was a big part of the reason Gerard had any trouble with other boys, and as a result, he and I were never on good terms. “What?” I growled.

          Ben pushed against my chest, demanding, “What’s the film camera for?”

          “It’s for a project,” I retorted hotly. I didn’t have the time or patience to deal with that kid. I tried to walk past, but he grabbed me by the shoulder of my jacket, pulling me back to face him.

          “Leave him alone, Ben,” Gerard ordered. “Let go of him.”

          Mikey practically ran out of there, telling hastily, “Well, I should get going to class. I-I’ll see you guys later.”

          "Fucking coward," Gerard muttered under his breath.

          "Is it a documentary?" Ben asked. He took a step forward and broadened his shoulders, towering over me.

          "I guess you could say that," I replied through gritted teeth.

          Ben released me roughly, threatening, "If I see you taping me you're dead. I don't want to be a part of your little freak film fest, got it?"

          I gulped, responding, "It's just part of the project."

          "Well keep me out of it," he hissed.

          "Ben, not everything's fucking about you," Gerard snapped. "Frankie's project has nothing to do with you; don't make it out to be that way. Grow up and get over it, you jackass."

          Ben backed off, but he still felt the need to taunt, "See you later, Frankie."

          I ducked my head, starting towards the building. "Thanks, man."

          "Don't mention it," Gerard replied.

          "No, seriously, you saved my ass," I insisted.

          Gerard just stuffed his hands into his pockets, repeating, "I said don't mention it."

          "I hate that kid," I admitted.

          "Well, he is kind of a jerk, but he's basically harmless."

          "Harmless? Are you kidding?" I asked. "That's the same asshole who used to slam your head into your locker."

          Gerard furrowed his brows in thought, agreeing, "Oh yeah, I guess he did."

          I couldn't help but laugh a little. "How can you forget something like that?"

          Gerard shrugged, confessing, "I moved on. Stuff like that doesn't matter as much as it used to."

          "I think I'm more sore at him for bullying you than you are," I chuckled.

          "That's probably true," Gerard mumbled. "It's whatever, you know? I like to forget about things like that as much as I can."

          "Repress it?" I questioned.

          "You got it," Gerard answered with a wink.

          We parted to go to our separate classes. Unfortunately, that day was my gym class, and while Gerard had study hall, I wasn't willing to skip out on an easy grade. I had to attend. So I knew I wouldn't be seeing Gerard until lunch, and by the start of the day, I had a strong feeling that I'd want to see him sooner.


	3. Boys

The amount of kids that asked why I had a camcorder was exhausting. By fourth period, they stopped asking. I don't know if word got around or if I just stopped being interesting. 

I met up with Gerard and Mikey at lunch, meeting at our usual back table.

"Yo," Mikey greeted. He was flipping through his phone like usual, his free hand rested on the table. 

"How's the filming going, Spielberg?" Gerard joked.

I bit my lip, trying to form a coherent answer. "Interesting."

Gerard raised an eyebrow. "Out of all the words you could've used, you chose interesting?"

"I mean," I hesitated. "I dunno, I guess its going okay. Some kids in gym thought I was trying to film them changing, though."

"Well, did you have the camera turned off?" Mikey asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. But they were all like-" I cleared my throat, then lowering my voice. I quoted with a mock gruffness, "'I'm sure you can turn it on while we're not looking.'"

"What'd you say?" Gerard questioned. 

I shrugged, confessing, "I was kinda taken aback, you know? So I just sort of mumbled 'don't flatter yourselves.'"

Mikey started to laugh, and Gerard's jaw dropped. "Did they kick your ass?"

"Surprisingly, no," I replied. "I mean, they did threaten to. And they told me I should watch my fag mouth before it lands me in serious trouble."

"Ouch," Gerard hissed. 

"Yeah," I sighed.

Mikey scoffed, comforting, "You know, fuck those guys, Frank. Who do they think they are, right?" He scowled, concluding, "They're no better than anyone else in this dump."

I opened my mouth to say something, but my grade was called up to get food. As a teenage boy, food was more important at that moment than any talk of emotions. I ditched the heartfelt conversation for burnt soy burgers and soggy tater tots, which both tasted bad no matter how much ketchup you used. 

The rest of the day practically flew by in comparison to that morning. I met up with Gerard as usual after school, claiming my rightful throne in the passenger seat of his car. 

As I stood outside the car door, I filmed Gerard. He was fumbling with his keys, this giant jungle of cheap lanyards and key chains with one single spare key. His original car key got lost, and to this day, he has no idea what ever happened to it. So he used a spare for that point on, and he was lucky not to lose that, too.

Gerard itched his nose, catching me filming him. He stuck his thumb towards the bottom of his nose, lifting it to make a pig snout. "Enjoying the view?"

"The idiot wildebeest. The male weighs anywhere from 380 to 440 pounds, a hefty mass. The fat is stored mainly in the creature's large buttocks and thighs," I narrated. 

Gerard squinted. "Hey. Quit that."

"It knows English," I proceed, "But not well. During mating season, it attends social outings but remains reserved, hoping for a mate to come to him."

Gerard started to walk over, and I turned to keep the camera on him, continuing, "He's coming towards me. They're known for being hostile when provoked."

"I'll fucking show you hostile," Gerard smirked. He managed to get behind me, lifting the tail of my shirt to grab my black briefs. He started to pull up, making me lose my footing. 

"Stop!" I protested, squirming uselessly. 

"Squirming only makes it worse," Gerard informed, yanking harder.

The worst part was that he was totally right. Gerard had been on the receiving end of more than a few wedgies himself, so he had firsthand experience there.

I leaned onto the roof of Gerard's car. "I'm off the ground, Gerard."

"Good," Gerard replied. 

I started to writhe around a bit, squeaking, "Seriously, quit it!"

"Take it like a man," Gerard responded. 

"No dude, you're going to rip my underwear," I insisted, trying to reach around and grab a hold of my briefs. I couldn't quite reach, so I settled for clutching my sore ass. 

"You overestimate my strength," Gerard mumbled.

I turned red as a tomato, pleading, "Gerard, there's girls coming. Please, please stop."

Gerard finally let go, smacking my ass as well. "I wouldn't want to rip your super cool tighty whities."

I frowned, correcting, "They're black."

"Whatever," Gerard muttered with a grin, climbing into the car.

I got in as well, my bunched underwear halfway up my back. 

As we drove down the road, Gerard watched me from the corner of his eye. I was struggling to undo his work, but it was actually really challenging. I was wearing skinny jeans, which were less than generous in spaciousness, and I was also sitting  down. To top it off, I was in a small car, making stretching nearly impossible. "Gerard this hurts."

"It's supposed to," Gerard laughed.

"My ass, man," I complained. I stuck a hand down the back of my pants, to find it was no help at all in mitigating my problem. 

Gerard rolled his eyes. "You know your name is sewed in those, right?"

I ducked my head, playing with a lock of hair by my eyebrow. "Y-yeah. My mom does that." 

Gerard laughed even harder. "You're lucky I'm the person finding this shit out, Frankie. Imagine if someone like Ben did."

I shook my head, agreeing, "God, I hate that kid."

Gerard turned up the radio a bit, a signal that for a while, our conversation was over. I peered into the backseat through the mirror, finally noticing, "Hey, where's Mikey?"

"He's hanging out with Peter," Gerard answered.

"Who the fuck is Peter?" I asked. I unbuttoned my pants, shimmying them down my thighs. 

Gerard tried to look like he wasn't watching me anymore, that he respected my privacy. But I could tell he was still sneaking glances as I finally fixed the wedgie he'd given me. 

"You know," Gerard said. "Peter."

I managed to pull my pants back up in the crammed space. "Last name?"

"Wentz."

"Not ringing a bell," I murmured. I sat there in silence for a bit, until I realized, "Oh, you mean Pete!"

"Yeah, I mean, Pete. Whatever that kid goes by," Gerard corrected.

"So they're just... hanging out?" I asked.

"Yeah," Gerard answered. "Hanging out."

"What kind of guys hang out one on one on a Monday night?" I questioned.

"Gee, I don't know... us?"

I chuckled, admitting, "I never thought of it like that."

Gerard sighed, admitting, "I think they do have a thing, though."

"What makes you think that?"

"Pretty sure they've been sending naughty pictures," Gerard replied. "Like Mikey's phone will buzz and all the sudden he has to run upstairs for fifteen minutes. Not without lotion, though."

"Ew," I mumbled. "He has been glued to his phone lately."

"Ew is right," Gerard agreed, widening his eyes. He peeked over at me, smiling as he asked, "Why are you still filming?"

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "I just thought it'd be a fun thing to look back at when I'm older, you know? When I can't remember what it was like to be sixteen and angry."

"It's awful. Just remember that and you're golden," Gerard assured.

I couldn't help but giggle. I focused my camera out on the landscape ahead of us, just beyond the dashboard. Although being that age and feeling the way I did sucked, I had a strong feeling that someday I'd miss it.


	4. Behind Closed Doors

Gerard and I reached his house in good time. He liked to speed a lot; he was one of the many boys at our school who topped out his vehicle. Gerard's little crapmobile can go about 86 mph, according to him. I wasn't there to witness it; Gerard driving is scary enough, so the thought of him deliberately going as fast as possible is utterly terrifying.

That was one of the things that you were pressured to do at our school. The popular crowd wasn't into drugs or alcohol, at least not heavily. They were more into setting things on fire, driving too fast, and getting girls to show their tits. 

It was at high school parties that those kind of things took place. Burning shit was almost exclusively for drunken Friday nights, and so was convincing underage girls to take their tops off. As for speeding, that was one of those things that you either did alone and bragged about later. Or, you didn't do it but lied and said you did. Sex was the same way. Almost every boy above the age of fifteen in Bellville claimed to have numerous sexual partners. Of the boys that said they'd experienced the sweet bliss of sexual intercourse, less than a quarter actually had. They were still children, children making up stories as they saw fit. 

"Gerard?" I asked. I turned the camera to him. It had been focused lazily on the toe of my shoe while I was zoning out. 

Gerard grabbed one of those damn cigarettes, sticking it in his mouth. "Yeah?"

 I starting toeing his grimy carpet, the tip of my shoe disappearing into the shag. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but..." I worked hard to make eye contact, continuing, "Have you ever had sex?"

Gerard chuckled, and seeing the hurt on my face, assured, "I'm not laughing at you; you caught me off guard, that's all."

He started sucking on his cigarette, and I urged, "So, have you?"

Again, Gerard laughed. "Do you want the truth, or do you want what I tell people is the truth?"

"Both."

Gerard sighed, beginning, "What I tell people is... yes. It was over a week I spent in Missouri last summer with a brunette named Michelle. She had cotton skin and eyes like blue jay feathers. She was camping across from us, and I became acquainted with her while our parents met. We both slipped out into the night that day, sprinting to the lake. We made love outside on the sand and grass, and it was passionate and soft and loving. I left that next morning, but not without getting her phone number. However, due to our busy and separate lives, we've lost touch since."

"And the truth?" I pushed.

"Don't rush me," Gerard snapped. He twirled his cigarette around in his fingers, proceeding, "Ah yes, the truth. You know, I think that Michelle story has come out of my mouth about 500 more times than what really happened."

He started to play with a loose string on his sweatshirt, wrapping the thread around his forefinger. 

"There is no Michelle, is there?"

Gerard gazed up at me, nodding. "No, there isn't." He flicked some ashes onto his floor, replacing the cigarette in his mouth. His voice came out muffled with the thing between his lips, "Completely fictitious."

"What's the truth, then?" I demanded.

Gerard frowned. "That is the truth. I made it all up. I mean, I know I shouldn't have, but these guys were ripping into me about how I was this pathetic virgin." Gerard took another puff, gesturing with his hands as he continued, "That shouldn't have bothered me so much, being called a virgin. But something about the venom in their voice it just..." he shook his head, proceeding, "it made it a dirty word." 

It took a while for me to find words, and even when they came out, I wasn't positive they were the right thing to say. "They made fun of you for being a virgin?"

Gerard wiggled his brows, mumbling, "Teenage boys are great, aren't they?" He stared into his lap as he continued, "But it wasn't just that."

"What do you mean?"

Gerard responded quietly, "That wasn't what made me so upset. It hurt a little, sure, but what came after was what made me lie about everything." He started to string a hand through his hair, slowly lowering his head. "They defaulted to straight boy norms and started saying stuff about my sexuality. They started talking about how I was a faggot and they weren't going to share a locker room with me anymore and..."

Gerard bit his lip. "I cracked, you know? Here I am, supposedly an advocate for guys not being homophobic assholes but..." he shook his head once more. "I wanted to get them to shut up. I knew that going on my rant about homophobia wouldn't do that."

I was quiet for a long time. The only sound in the room was of Gerard's inhales and exhales of smoke. Finally, I asked, "So... are you gay?"

Gerard grinned. "I'm pansexual but..." he twiddled his cigarette in his fingers, confessing, "I lean towards guys a lot." 

I nodded, saying, "Well, I'm pretty sure everyone knows I'm gay."

"You're not out of the closet," Gerard pointed out.

"Yeah but just the things I say when it comes to relationships and hookups and shit... I can tell people have caught on."

"Maybe that's not a bad thing," Gerard suggested.

I smiled, agreeing, "Maybe not."

Gerard stood swiftly, marching to his screen door. He tossed his cigarette in the yard, lingering by the frame for a minute before returning. "I think Mikey's bisexual or something."

"Obviously he has a thing for Pete," I mutter.

"About that,  can you do me a favor?" Gerard asked. 

I zoomed the camera in on him. "Sure, anything."

Gerard hesitated, then proceeding, "Ask Mikey how things are going with Pete, okay? Get the scoop on what they're doing and how they're doing it. I don't need graphic detail but I just want to know that he's being smart."

I scrunched my nose. "Can't you ask him that?"

Gerard scoffed, "Please, he's my brother. He'll talk to me about anything but that."

"Sure," I replied. "I mean, it's in my interest, too. I'd like to know that Mikey and Pete are being safe."

"You never know," Gerard sighed. "You raise em the best you can but..."

"Okay, Dad," I laughed.

Gerard narrowed his eyes. 

"What?"

Gerard stood once more, pressing close to me and ordering, "Call me Dad again."


	5. Be My Baby

It took about two full seconds for my tongue to work properly. Even when it regained movement, all I could muster was, "I beg your pardon?"

Gerard smirked, his lips taunting and eyes confident. He leaned in once more, wrapping an arm around the small of my back. He pulled me close to him, hanging his other arm over my shoulder. Pushing his lips to my neck, he growled, "Fucking call me Daddy."

I thought that's what he'd meant, but it was too good to believe. At that time, for anyone to want to be with me was a godsend. But for that poor sucker to be Gerard, I could've died happy right there. That's right, in my cruddy school uniform and on that grimy looking carpet.

Gerard peered down into my eyes, raising his brows. He lifted my jaw to his, slowly initiating what was my first kiss.

Our mouths fit together like puzzle pieces. He used his tongue to carve artwork into the inside of my mouth. We kissed until our lips were raw.

He pulled me onto the bed as I shrugged off my blazer. He was starting on my shirt, unbuttoning the damned thing, when I grabbed his hands, stopping him.

"Hey," I interrupted, my voice light. "This is good and all but... for now can we just cuddle?"

Gerard squinted. "Cuddle? I mean... yeah, sure, I guess." He lay on his side, motioning for me to lie next to him. I molded my spine to the shape of him, pulling his arms around me.

I heard Gerard sigh.

"I'm sorry," I apologized.

"Sorry?" Gerard asked.

I nodded, answering, "Yeah. I know you wanted to go further but... I'm just not ready." I turned onto my other side to face him, pleading, "I hope you can understand that."

Gerard just propped his head up, assuring, "Frank, you don't have to be sorry for not wanting to have sex."

"I know but..." I looked into my own chest, mumbling, "I just never want to disappoint you."

Gerard laughed at that. He didn't even try to cough and cover it up or anything; he just laughed as though it was the funniest thing he's heard all day. 

“What's so damn funny?” I grumbled, pouting.

Gerard grew serious. “The fact that you thought I'd ever be disappointed in you.”

I grinned toothily, muttering, “Okay, that was pretty damn cute.”

“Cute enough for us to have sex?” Gerard joked.

I smacked the side of his head with one of his pillows, giggling, “Pervert!”

Gerard about fell off his bed, and that just made him start laughing again. He clawed at the sheets, pulling himself back up and kissing my cheek.

We lay there spooning for a bit, and to be honest, it was really nice. I wasn't ready for sex, and part of me was completely fine with that. I just loved having Gerard hold me.

A question started to eat at me, and it took me around fifteen minutes to actually gain the courage to ask it. “So... are we an _item_ now?”

Gerard shrugged, replying, “Only if you want to be.”

“Yeah,” I decided. “That would be nice.”

“And so it was written.”

The next day at school, everything was surprisingly normal. I mean, I’d read all these stories and seen all these shows about how romantic relationships can ruin a friendship, but that just wasn’t happening between Gerard and I. Nothing changed, and that’s really what I wanted.

Well, one thing out of the ordinary did happen. Gerard made a new friend, which was almost impossible. Gerard had this thing where he really didn’t talk to anyone unless he absolutely had to. Because of this, Mikey and I were his only real friends. Luckily for him, I’d initiated the conversation when we first met, and as for Mikey, he’s his brother, so he kinda has to like him.

Gerard met this kid in his art class. He’s new at our school, transferred from out of state. He takes the same art class as Gerard, advanced drawing. That’s where the two met; the teacher assigned his seat next to Gerard.

And once again with Gerard, the other person had to start the conversation.

The boy’s name was Ray, and he was this sort of cartoon character goofball that clicked surprisingly well with Gerard’s grim nature. It was an opposites attract situation, one that left Gerard with someone new to talk to.

Ray even joined us at our lunch table. Had Ray studied the hierarchy of our high school, he wouldn’t have done so. Gerard was widely disliked, and so were Mikey and I. None of us were necessarily bullied, ignored yes, and at times harassed. The reason I wouldn’t label it as bullying was because whenever I had trouble with being picked on, it was always different guys.

But this Ray guy was quite the character. I mean, he just jumped into our conversations like it was nothing. He was suggesting movies I’d like minutes after meeting him. He was a fast paced kind of person, and it really worked.

“So there’s a party on Friday,” Ray suggested. “Who’s going?”

Gerard scrunched his nose. “I don’t do parties.”

I nodded, agreeing, “Yeah, I dunno about this. I mean recreational drug use, okay. Cutting class, fine. But parties?” I used my fork to play with my food, sighing, “I don’t know.”

“It’ll be fun!” Ray insisted.

“No, it’s just not my thing,” Gerard replied.

Ray groaned, putting his head down. Finally, he was dropping the subject.

Just when I thought the whole party idea had blown over, he looked at Gerard, challenging, “I’ll bet you five bucks you’ll have a good time.”

Oh, no. If you asked anyone around here for one quirk about Gerard, it was that he never turned down a bet. It was a well-known but little discussed fact in our group, in fact, Mikey often used it against his brother.

Gerard grinned, responding, “You’ve got yourself a deal, Toro.”

I sat there, numb. I really didn’t want to go to some stupid high school party.

“Frank, you in?” Ray asked.

“Of course!”


	6. Pulling Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please comment and leave a kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> Tumblr: worldswrst  
> Twitter: @ierosaint

I did the best I could to try to avoid the party. And by that, I mean that I "accidentally" forgot my change of clothes at home. I figured it would work fair enough, but I was somewhat worried that they'd just have me go to the stupid thing in my lousy school uniform instead. I hoped they'd have better sense than that; the party would have public school kids at it. They can get rough, and it seemed like wearing a school uniform to one of their gatherings would be an open invitation for a beating.

It happened to be my study hall day, which meant I got to hang out with Gerard and smoke dope instead of sleeping in the cafeteria. I went about my usual task of collecting slips from classrooms, but immediately darted outside to meet Gerard.

He was sitting in his usual spot beneath the bleachers. Sitting criss cross applesauce and pulling up grass, he eyed me as I approached him. 

"Are we smoking today?" I asked. Normally Gerard was already lighting up by the time I got out there. To see him sitting there, hands empty and eyes clear, was unfamiliar and disorienting. 

Gerard grinned at me, pulling a stray lock of hair behind his ear. "No."

I squinted. "No? What do you mean, no?" I sat next to him, sighing. "I was looking forward to it."

Gerard leaned against me, purring into my ear, "I had something else in mind." With that, he started to kiss my neck, bringing his tongue across my jawline. 

I blushed, trying to push him away. "Gerard, not here."

He laughed, demanding, "What, you'll smoke weed at school, but making out crosses the line?" 

I nodded, answering, "Yeah, I will. I don't want anybody seeing us; it'd be embarrassing." 

Gerard frowned. "Because kissing me is embarrassing."

"I didn't mean it like that," I assured.

Gerard pouted nonetheless. He shifted over, swinging a leg over my lap. Straddling me, he started to grind. 

"Gerard. Gerard stop it," I ordered. I could feel myself start to get hard, and I prayed to the good Lord above for it to go down. 

He dipped forward, kissing me again. He bit at my skin, tempting, "Come on, Frankie, lighten up. You're such a goody two shoes." 

He snaked a hand down my chest. Undoing my belt buckle, he urged, "Be bad for once."

My stomach tightened as Gerard unbuttoned my pants, then pulling down the fly. He sneaked a glance down at my hard cock, raised through the thin fabric of my briefs. He smirked, tracing the outline of my cock with his thumb. "Little Frankie's all worked up."

I bit my lip, starting to ease my crotch forward. I wanted more from Gerard. 

He eased my pants down further, fully exposing my hips. Working a hand through the slot in my underwear, his fingers met my skin. 

He grasped me slowly, stroking me gently. I started to breathe heavier. I focused on the rising of my chest rather than Gerard's eyes, which were cast down. 

His movements became less and less, until finally, he withdrew, zipping my pants back up.

"What are you doing?"

He replied, "I want to be with you and all but... not here."

I scoffed, "It was your idea in the first place."

"I know, but I just thought about you cumming and what a mess cleanup would be. That was enough to make me finish," Gerard explained. He redid my belt, settling back into his own space. He then felt the need to add, "Cute tighty whities."

He patted my thigh, then pushing himself to a standing position. He started to walk, so I raced to my feet to follow, retorting, "They're blue, not white."

"Still tighty whities," Gerard insisted, brushing hair from his face. 

I shook my head. We paced around the track for a while, and it took me some time to ask, "So what do you think about this party tonight?"

Gerard shrugged. "I dunno. Can't say I've ever been to a party, but I like to keep an open mind."

I nodded, stuffing my hands into my pockets. I honestly believed that at that point, our conversation was over. Of course, Gerard wouldn't let me off that easy. He asked, "How about you?"

I chose my words carefully. "I purposely left my change of clothes at home to try and avoid it." 

Perhaps I could've used more discretion when speaking. 

"That's stupid," Gerard muttered. 

"Excuse me?" 

"It's stupid," Gerard repeated. "You're not stupid, but what you did is. Not only will it not get you out of going, but it's a sorta selfish thing to do."

"Not wanting to go to a party is suddenly selfish?" I demanded. 

"When your boyfriend is going and he's scared, yeah, it is," Gerard spat. 

I was quiet after that. Finally, I worked up the nerve to hold his hand. "Don't be afraid. I'll be there." 

"Thanks," Gerard mumbled.

That was another thing I knew about Gerard. He wasn't one to talk about his feelings. If you got anything out of him, you considered yourself lucky and called it a day. I imagined that a tidbit of personal information from him was an incredible amount of emotional labor on his part. The idea that sharing these things was that hard for him made it easier on me. I knew that it wasn't that he didn't trust me enough, but that he could only force himself to share so much. 

In case you're wondering, although I did agree to attending the party while my clothes weren't at school, I didn't have to go in my uniform. Ray and Gerard were nice enough to stop by my house so I could grab my things after school. 

Mikey wasn't with us. He was with Pete again, but he promised to meet us at the party. I remembered Gerard enlisting me to ask about Mikey's sex life, because his baby brother refused to admit those things to Gerard. It frustrated Gerard that he couldn't talk to Mikey like that, but that was literally what it was like knowing Gerard. Sometimes I got a small bit of information, but most of the time, nothing. I never got what I want from him. 

 


	7. Pity Party

          I wasn’t really sure what to wear to the party. I obviously knew that my school uniform was not an option, but other than that, I was kinda lost. I kept hinting to Gerard that I didn’t know what to wear. I was too embarrassed to ask for help in front of Ray; I’d just met this kid and I was still setting in my first impression. I ended up texting him when he was sitting right next to me in the car; that way he knew but Ray couldn’t see.

            He replied with a joke that it was a black tie event. It was funny, but not helpful by any means.

            I ended up choosing a dark pair of skinny jeans, green Vans sneakers, a black t shirt and my favorite Misfits hoodie. I rushed out to the car as fast as I could; I had no idea how long I’d kept the two waiting.

            As I climbed into the backseat of Ray’s car, Gerard stated dramatically, “Ten hours later, and Frankie returns.”

            “Shut up,” I scowled. I smiled just to make sure that Gerard knew I wasn’t actually mad. I was the king of giving people the wrong signals- I was one of those people who come off as rude because of how blunt I can be. I also suffered from a serious resting asshole face. If I had a dollar for every time I had a neutral expression and someone thought I was mad, I would be able to pay for a surgery to get a less intimidating face.

            The party was in the middle of nowhere, which was annoying for the drive, but incredibly useful for prolonged disturbance of the peace and underage consumption of alcohol. I mean, it was highly unlikely for anyone to call the cops and crash it, and even if someone did, everyone would probably know about it and head out in the fifteen minutes it took the police to get there.

            I didn’t recognize most of the kids first thing we walked in. I kept my eyes straight forward for the most part. Entering that room was like taking a haunted house tour; I tried to block out what I could but knew that it wouldn’t work.

            Ray just about sprinted for the keg, returning with three beers. He handed one to Gerard and gave the other to me, taking a large swig of his own. “It’s shit beer, but you’ll feel it kick in after you down a few.”

            I tentatively took a sip, this being my first real drink.

            Ray was right; it was shit. In fact, shit was an understatement; I could barely choke that absolute garbage down. I had the urge to spit it back out, but I was afraid I’d get made fun of. So I did my best to swallow and then try to produce copious amounts of saliva to rid my mouth of the aftertaste.

            Gerard and Ray were drinking like it was no problem. I’d never seen Gerard drink, but there were times where I’d come over to his house and he’d already be drunk. I didn’t have a lot of experience with drinking, so it was usually difficult for me to tell if someone was drunk. But Gerard was always so obvious; not only would he reek of it, but he slurred his speech and had the tendency to do embarrassing things, things he’d never even consider doing sober. He was a happy drunk, which was also a drastic change from his typical disgruntled demeanor.

            “So where’s Mikes?” Ray asked. “He and Pete show up yet?”

            Gerard dug his phone out of his pocket, replying, “I’m not sure. He hasn’t texted me.”

            I stared into my drink, watching the foam settle.

            Then I saw it.

            A single short, curly hair in my drink. And you know what my first thought was.

            Pubic hair.

            I gagged right off the bat, slapping a hand over my mouth.

            “What is it, Frankie?” Gerard asked.

            I didn’t answer, just headed off in the opposite direction in search of a bathroom. I pushed through the swarms of kids, mumbling out what ‘excuse mes’ I could.

            I started up the steps, taking a sharp right and luckily finding the open bathroom.

            I didn’t even hit the toilet throwing up.

            I stumbled out after, my stomach sour and mouth raw. I brought the side of my hand across my lower lip a few times, heading back downstairs.

And then I saw them.

            Leaned against a wall was Mikey; Pete draped over him like a cloth. One of Pete’s hand was gripped tightly onto Mikey’s shoulder, and the other had a firm hold on his ass. They were kissing and breathing heavily, mouths gaping and reaching.

            I approached them, clearing my throat loudly.

            Pete jumped a bit, caught my eye, and then immediately took his hands off of Mikey. Heat rising in his cheeks, he crossed his arms, muttering, “I… we uh…”

            “Let’s talk, Pete,” I ordered. Grabbing him by the forearm, I led him down the hall and against a doorframe.

            “Is this the part where you say Gerard’s gonna kick my ass if I break Mikey’s heart?”

            I chuckled, shaking my head. “You’ve seen Gerard, right?”

            Pete looked at me warily.

            I sighed, moving forward, “You know what, nevermind. That’s not the point. I’m not going to threaten you or anything like that.”

            “Then why am I here?” Pete asked.

            “Look, I don’t wanna embarrass you,” I began. “I just... I thought I’d get a more direct answer from you than Mikey.”

            Pete raised his eyebrows questioningly.

            I ducked my head, asking clearly, “You and Mikey have been dating for a while, right?”

            Pete nodded, so I pressed on, “Have you ever done anything besides kissing?”

            He then frowned, replying, “Well, I guess we’ve done some uh, let’s call it ‘heavy petting’.”

            “Okay,” I replied. It was even awkward for me to talk about this. “Anything that you’d like, need a condom for?”

            Pete’s eyes flashed to the ground, and he answered softly, “Um, sorta, yeah. Why?”

             “Sorry I know this is weird it’s just that Gerard wants to make sure you guys are being safe,” I explained. “You know, using the condoms and whatnot?”

             Pete groaned, “Oh my God, I do not want to have this talk with you.”

             “Believe me, I’m not exactly relishing the moment,” I grumbled. “Just yes or no, are you guys being safe?”

             Pete sighed, finally muttering, “Yes.”

              I patted him on the back. “That must’ve been hard. Good talk, kiddo.” I started leading him back towards Mikey, encouraging in a lower voice, “Now go continue your game of tonsil hockey; I think you were winning.”

              Pete blushed harder than he already was, if that was even possible. He returned to Mikey’s side, lacing his fingers with his before heading down the hallway.

              I made my way down the stairs slowly, still feeling slightly nauseated. Towards the bottom step, I ran into Gerard, who was worried and so full of questions.

              “Frank? Oh my God, what happened? Are you okay? You just ran out, it scared the shit out of me!”  
             “Gerard, relax,” I chuckled. “I’m fine I just uh..” I decided to omit the part about me puking, so I half told the truth by saying, “I saw Pete and Mikey.”

              “And?” Gerard asked.

              “They’re doing.. stuff...” I confessed. “But they’re being safe so, that’s really what matters.”

              “Dude they’re starting party games downstairs,” Gerard said. “Let’s go, before they’re all done!” He grabbed my hand and led me the rest of the way, forcing me to a quicker pace.

            We found Ray soon enough, standing around with a beer in hand.

            “Toro, what’s going on with the games?” Gerard asked.

            Ray shrugged, admitting, “I dunno man, it’s kinda lame. You know they’re talking about stuff like Spin the Bottle, Twister.. I mean, you’d think we’re ten or something.”

            “This whole party’s turning out that way,” Gerard agreed.

            “Wanna bail?” I suggested.

            “And what would we do, exactly?” Ray demanded.

            I scoffed, replying, “I’m not sure, but it has to be better than this.”

            “He’s really not wrong,” Gerard pointed out. “Come on, let’s hit the road, Toro.”

            Ray ended up dropping us off at Gerard’s place. He left us at the driveway, shouting, “See you guys in class Monday!”

            “Sounds good, man!” Gerard responded.

            We headed up the porch to his house, entering through the living room. We were not prepared for what we saw.

            It was a fleshy mess of Pete and Mikey, hot and heavy on the Ways’ overstuffed sofa.


	8. Free Love

Mikey was a very laid back sort of person. This showed even in the way he walked; he strolled along at an infuriatingly slow pace. I had never seen Mikey in a hurry to get anywhere. That is, until I saw him swinging his scrawny legs over the couch to demount Pete Wentz.

Gerard's baby brother was literally a pale blur as he rushed to stand, fumbling to pull his jeans back on. Gerard buried his face in his hands, shielding himself from the pitiful sight. Pete scrambled around on the couch, finally pulling a blanket up around his waist.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Gerard groaned.

Mikey pushed forward, stammering, “L-look, before you say anything, just listen.”

Gerard crossed his arms, peering at Mikey expectantly.

“I just...” Mikey began. He was quiet for a bit, his eyes flickering from Gerard to me, with the occasional glance back towards the couch where Pete lay still, frozen.

“You know what, be quiet,” Gerard ordered. “It's all good, right? I mean, this... this is fine.”

Mikey raised a brow. “Fine?”

“Yeah,” Gerard insisted. He peeked back at me, proceeding, “I have actually have something to tell you, Mikes.”

“Well, shoot, Mikey encouraged. “Go ahead.”

Gerard took a breath, confessing, “I'm dating someone, too.”

“And?” Mikey pressed.

Gerard swiftly looked back at me, admitting, “I'm dating Frank.”

Mikey's eyebrows perked up. “Oh.”  
“So, okay?” Gerard asked.

“Y-yeah,” Mikey stammered. “I just didn't know that either of you were into dudes.”

“Now you know,” I cut in.

“Gerard, you're not mad I didn't tell you, are you?” Mikey asked. He pouted at his older brother, widening his eyes for extra sympathy.

“No,” Gerard replied. He added, “I'm just annoyed that you decided to get weird on the couch, which you will be disinfecting later.”

Mikey rolled his eyes, mumbling, “Fucking germaphobe.”

“There's a difference between bacteria and ballsweat, Mikey,” Gerard pointed out.

I covered my ears, begging, “Please, no talk of ballsweat. I'd like to keep my lunch, thank you.”

Gerard grabbed my hand, telling, “We'll be downstairs, but I strongly suggest that you knock if you need us.”

Mikey scrunched his nose, complaining, “I did not need to know that.”

“And I didn't need to see your bare ass grinding over Peter here,” Gerard retorted. “But things don't always work out how we imagine them, do they?”

Mikey blushed as Gerard and I pushed past him, making the way down to his room.

Once we got down there, Gerard wasted no time in kissing me. He put his hands on my shoulders, eventually reaching one up to grab a fistful of hair towards the back of my head. He snapped my head back, then kissing my neck.

“Shit,” I breathed heavily. I screwed my eyes shut, letting Gerard's kisses make their way down my neck and collarbones. I shrugged off my hoodie, letting it fall to the floor. Gerard reached over my back to grab the tail of my shirt, pulling the entire thing off over my head.

I peered at him, feeling a little overexposed as he stood there, fully dressed. I took control, grabbing him by the hip and kissing him, working off his own shirt.

I lead him to his mattress, hooking some fingers in the front of his pants. I tugged on them restlessly, until he took the hint to undo his jeans. He kicked off his shoes, shimmying his pants off as well. He didn't stand there long before working to get my pants off as well, which I unbuttoned and then rolled down my ankles.

I laid him down on the bed, straddling his waist. I dipped to kiss him, sucking on his neck before dragging my tongue across the skin. He shuddered, his mouth agape. I smirked, taking this as encouragement to keep going. I started to grind above him, continuing to bite at his neck as I snaked a hand down his stomach.

His breathing grew more and more rapid as my hand got closer to his waistband. I grazed my fingertips just under the top of his boxers, scratching at the skin gently. He lifted his hips, drawing them forward. Realizing that he wanted more, I teased him some more before actually sliding my entire hand beneath his underwear.

I started to work him, bending to kiss his chest at the same time. He closed his eyes, soft purrs escaping from his pursed lips.

He soon reached his climax, and I coaxed him back down to earth with slow kisses. He eased in next to me, wrapping the blankets around us.

He sighed contently, telling, “I could lay here for hours.”

I grinned, agreeing, “Yeah. If only.”

I would've given anything to stay with him for another hour, another week, hell the rest of my life. I tried to stay past 9 o'clock, but my mom was not having it.

I groaned, shuffling out of bed.

Gerard pouted, “Where are you going?”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, pulling on a shirt. I redid my pants button, then stepping into shoes. “My mom and her 9:30 curfew.”

Gerard scoffed, “Mama's boy.”

“Shut up,” I giggled.

“Make me,” Gerard ordered sultrily.

I stopped what I was doing, taking long strides over. I leaned in close to him, stopping just millimeters from his lips. I told, “That curfew though.” With that, I pulled back, sticking my tongue out at him.

Gerard attended to the growing tent underneath the covers, rubbing his crotch. “That was cold, man. You're giving me blue balls.”

I smirked, remarking, “You get turned on really easily.”

Gerard shrugged, admitting, “I mean, I guess so.”

“Have fun spanking it out,” I teased.

“I wish I could say that your accusations are false,” Gerard sighed. He hung his head, adding, “But nay, tis not so.”

I laughed, telling, “You're so cute.” I pecked his cheek, smiling one last time. “I'll see you tomorrow at school, okay?”

“Alright.”

I left, unable to help from stealing glances back at him.

 


	9. Won't Get Fooled Again

 Gerard picked me to go to school Monday morning, totally unannounced. I peered out my window around 7:20, chewing on my breakfast bar slowly as I watched a car roll into my driveway. Realizing that the rusted piece of shit belonged to Gerard, I snatched my camera off the table, rushing out the door as I called “Bye, Ma!”

I rushed into the passenger seat, nearly closing the door on my tie. My hand immediately went for the radio, flipping through stations.

Gerard took a sip of his coffee, greeting, “It's nice to see you too, sunshine.”

I blushed, murmuring, “Thanks for picking me up, Gerard.” I landed briefly on station 103.9, which was playing Zero by the Smashing Pumpkins. Hearing that the song was halfway through, I switched onto the next.

Gerard swatted at my hand, ordering, “Turn it back.”

“Turn it back?” I repeated.

“Yeah,” Gerard insisted. “It was the Pumpkins man, come on.”

“The song will be over in a minute,” I mumbled.

Gerard scoffed, “So?”

I frowned, scolding, “You never look at the long term. Why stop on a song, listen for sixty entire seconds, then go back to channelsurfing? It's easier to keep your finger on the dial.” I cranked the knob, adding, “It's like running; it's best to keep going than to stop and try to pick it back up.”

“You did not just compare listening to the radio to running, did you?” Gerard snorted.

“Yeah, and?”

Gerard shook his head, replying, “Listening to the radio can range from mediocre to religious depending on the station and the time of day. However, running is mildly unpleasant at best.”

I smirked, finally muting the radio as Gerard pulled into his regular parking spot.

I turned to get out, my hand pushing the door ajar. Gerard stopped me, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling the door shut with his other.

“What?”

Gerard grinned, easing me back into my seat. He crawled over to straddle me, teasing, “Alright M. Night Shyamalan. Fire up that camera; we're making a director's cut.”

I began to talk, well, not exactly talk. Whatever came out of my mouth was an attempt at English, but not a coherent one. These non-words got covered by Gerard pressing his lips to mine, then biting on my lower lip.

“Ger-Gerard...” I stammered once I got the chance. “Right here? _Now_?”

Gerard pouted. “Why not?”

“What if we get caught?” I protested.

Gerard rolled his eyes, retorting, “Yeah, Frank. I'm sure they'll all be doing flashlight searches on a Monday morning.”

“That's the thing, they don't need flashlights. Who the fuck needs flashlights to see inside of a car when it's broad fucking daylight!” I hissed, Gerard nipping at my neck all the while.

“Relax, Frankie,” Gerard hushed. He brought a hand down my stomach and onto the lap of my slacks, thumbing around my hard on. He kissed at my neck, assuring, “I'll take good care of you.”

I believed him. So, I decided to give in to my lackluster, hormone-driven adolescent decisions and let him get me off right there opposite the football field. Just as I was letting nature take it's course, Gerard totally bailed, smiling as he got off of me and left the car.

I scrambled to catch up to him, straightening my shirt and grabbing my backpack last minute. I slammed his car door, catching the end of a book bag strap in it as well. “Hold up!” I shouted. Wrestling the thing free, I hastily carried it over my still erect penis as I chased after Gerard.

“Wait up!” I called, reaching him. I smacked him on the arm, demanding, “What the hell was that all about?!”  
Gerard chuckled, replying, “You really think I'd let you get away with giving me blue balls Friday night?”

“Are you serious?” I groaned.

“You started it,” Gerard said.

“Dude, that was in your room! At nighttime! It's 8 in the morning, Gerard, and I have Spanish in ten minutes!”

Gerard just giggled, “Maybe Ms. Brooks will just think you really like foreign languages.”

I hit him on the arm again, this time making him wince. Good. “This is so embarrassing, dude!”

“Well, yeah, because you're walking around with a Jansport in front of your crotch like a dork,” Gerard replied. “You couldn't be any more obvious.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” I growled.

Gerard nudges me, answering, “Do what I did. Spank her out.”

I scrunched my nose, questioning, “What, _at school_?”

“Yes, _at school_ ,” Gerard mimicked. “Honestly, just run to the nearest men's room, grab a stall, and your problem's gone in like two minutes.”

“Isn't that really weird?” I asked. “I mean, I'm weird and I know it, but I'm a different kind of weird, like a quirky, charming kind. But this... masturbating at school, this is the Charles Manson kind of weird.”

Gerard shrugged, telling, “Hey, do whatever you want.” He turned around, adding, “By the way, the bathroom's to your left.”

Desperate, I turned to the restroom as a last resort. I waited until Gerard was out of sight though; no way he needed the satisfaction of knowing that I took care of my problem staring down amateur graffiti covering the inside of the puke green stall door.

I tried to make it as fast as I could; I recited the phrase, “In and out,” under my breath about a dozen times.

I reached the bathroom, disheartened to see a small cluster of boys on their phones hanging by the urinals. I shuffled to a stall as quickly as I could, throwing myself onto the seat and undoing my slacks.

I screwed my eyes shut and thought of anything other than the bathroom's vague stench of urine as I finished what Gerard had started.

I was just about done when the walls came crashing down around me. Literally, one of the guys had thought it'd be funny to kick my stall door in. Their reactions were probably priceless, but I was too busy zipping myself up to notice.

I got the hell out of there, catching one of them scoffing, “Fucking freak!”

My face stayed flushed red for what felt like hours.

The only part of my day I was looking forward to was lunch with the guys. Pete and Mikey were supposed to join us for the first time ever, now that they weren't tiptoeing around anymore. I wasn't sure if or when Ray met them, but I was certain that it'd be a good time.

Isn't it funny how quickly things can change?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please comment, rate, and subscribe!! I should be updating soon!


	10. I'm Not Okay

The lunch period was going just as every other had. The room was hot, the conversations were endless, and the school served some sort of whole grain alternative. The only difference was that this time, all of us were together. Gerard and I had a lot of lunches with Mikey, and a fair amount with Ray as well. However, we had never sat at the same table as Pete, who always looked afraid he was about to say something stupid. 

But it was actually Gerard who'd said the dumbest thing that had ever come out of his mouth. 

Things had been going perfectly fine; everyone had gone through the line and we were all talking as we ate. Gerard was polishing off his milk carton, stretching his neck back to completely drain it. 

"Holy shit, man!" Ray gasped. 

Gerard brought his milk down, wiping his mouth on his forearm as he asked, "What?"

Ray pushed Gerard's jaw back, exclaiming, "Those fucking hickeys! They're so dark!"

Gerard reddened, trying to lower his head. "I... I uh..."

"Who's the lucky girl?" Ray asked. He examined the bruises once more, remarking, "Damn, she just did not let up, huh?"

Gerard paused, not even glancing to me before replying, "No, I guess she didn't."

"What's her name, man?" Ray gushed.

Gerard shrugged, answering, "Eh, I don't remember. It's not like she was important, anyways."

By then, I had had it. Quickly slamming both fists on the table, I got up and left, totally ditching my tray. I could hear Ray ask over my shoulder, “What's Frank up to?”, which I'm sure Gerard answered with some stupid lie. 

I reached the boys' bathroom, planting my palms onto a sink and staring myself down in the mirror. My eyes were already foggy and pinkish, how embarrassing. 

Gerard came in not a minute later, leaning against the closed door behind him. "No one's in here, right?"

I gestured at the empty stalls behind me, annoyed. 

He tried to lace his fingers with mine, asking, "What's wrong?"

I wrestled my hands free, spitting, "Don't try to comfort me now."

"Why not?"

"What you said to Toro!" I retorted. "All that bullshit about how some girl is the one you're with."

Gerard snorted, "Is that really all that you're angry about?"

"Not just that!" I snapped. "When you said that she's not important. You said that the person who supposedly gave you hickeys are not important." I glared at him, growling, "I may be just a fucking airhead in your book, but I've learned to read between the lines."

"That is not what I meant!" Gerard scoffed. "Honestly, you need to stop taking everything so personally. It's like you were born without any skin, Frank; anything hits a nerve."

"Don't pin this on me," I hissed. " _You_ are the one that lied, Gerard. I don't get how that story twists around to make me the asshole."

"I never called you an asshole!" Gerard shouted. 

"You might as well have!" I yelled back. I pushed past him, cursing under my breath. I felt his hand reach for me as I moved and shrieked, "Don't touch me!"

I considered going back to the lunch room, but only for a very brief moment.  I realized soon that Gerard would likely join me there, and for the first time, he was the last thing I needed. We both needed some time to cool off, and knowing Gerard, I'd have to physically put distance between us for that to happen. Not to mention, the fight had put this dense rock in the pit of my gut. I couldn't stomach the thought of eating. 

I couldn't wander off to a classroom; that would land me in the principles' office. Hiding out in a locker room or bathroom would result in a lengthy stay at the nurse, on account of my ass being beat to a pulp. Going outside seemed like a fair option, but I knew that it was cold out that afternoon and I didn't have a sweatshirt handy. Cornered with nowhere else to go, I turned to the graveyard of my high school: the library. 

The damned room was empty, as always. I set my bag down near one of the tables, taking a seat in a hard, wooden chair. I eyed the rows of books, contemplating whether or not I should pick one out to read. I decided against it, but roamed the aisles nevertheless just for something to do. 

Just as I was becoming more familiar with the Dewey Decimal system that ever, the bell rang, dismissing me to my class after lunch. I gathered my things and shuffled along, the heat from Gerard's words still burning inside me. 

Feeling terrible but acting like I'm fine for the convenience of others has always been a habit of mine. I found myself doing this just the same, and when Mikey tracked me down and asked what had happened between Gerard and I, I shrugged him off. At this point it almost seemed like I was avoiding the problem, but that wasn't it. I had merely packed it up to deal with at a later, more appropriate time. School was stressful enough as it is; I didn't need boyfriend drama on top of that. 

It always seemed that my feelings ran most intensely at the times least convenient. School was the setting where my emotions always threatened to push me over the edge. There are too many times to count when I had been in class, wanting nothing more than to curl up in my bed and cry. Other times, I would give anything to punch a wall and relieve my anger, but I would settle for grimacing my way through a lesson. I was used to putting my problems on hold, and sometimes, I forgot to get back to them. But the worst part about this whole system I had going on was the general unease it created which spread only to my friends. It was sensed by those who loved me and knew me, enough to know that I was not okay. I had the tendency to make these people nervous, and I wish I knew how to make the cycle end. 


	11. Anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please comment, and leave a kudos if you enjoyed it! I should be updating soon, feel free to check out my other works in the meantime!

I decided that what Gerard and I needed was some space. I wasn't looking at anything too dramatic- I was only thinking of a day or so apart. 

But the thing was, just an hour into my time without Gerard, I was already coming apart. Not necessarily from our argument, but mostly because of the people surrounding me. 

I wasn't even doing anything wrong, just going about my own business. Isn't that how these things always seem to start? I could see the court case: Iero v. the Abercrombie and Fitch Wearing Assholes. It was always the same story with these things; I'd be making my way to class and hear a rude remark. I'd ignore it, and then they'd block my path, continuing to belittle me. I'd try to ignore them and push past, then a particularly offensive comment would rile me up and make be talk back, sparking some sort of physical conflict. Bullies weren't the smartest or most innovative; their techniques were very formulaic. 

This time, it was this hoard of seniors, most of which I've only said two words to. Why they had a problem with me was a mystery, one that could usually be solved pretty quickly. My default answer was my appearance: short, small, and somewhat feminine or emo by conventional standards. On rare occasions they would have an illegitimate, but still, a reason to be upset with me. However on most, it was just rich boys looking to start a fight. 

I had been walking to physics, eager to get there. The day was practically over; it was our last period and we had a substitute teacher, one who knew nothing of science. It would be the easiest class period of the year, one of kids chattering lightly or fucking around on their phones. It would be beautiful. 

Passing through the basement hallway, I found my path blocked by some guys. Usually I could squeeze my way through- I was small enough. Unfortunately for me, Tyler Seil was the main one standing before me. That kid was built like a fucking truck: tall, broad shoulders, thick legs, you name it. I wasn't going to risk sneaking past him. 

In the calmest, most neutral tone I could manage, I asked, "Any trouble, guys?"

Tyler looked around, squinting. "What? Who said that?" Catching my eye, he faked looking startled. "Oh, Frank! Didn't see you down there."

All his friends went into hysterics over the ancient relic of an insult. I forced a chuckle, telling, "I need to get to physics."

Tyler pouted, teasing, "Aww, you have to go to  _phsyics!_ " He peered from friend to friend, remarking, "We can give you a physics lesson right here."

I was never any good at physics. But I knew that if Tyler is mentioning it, it was probably going to hurt. I tried to dart around him, but he caught me by the neck, spinning me to face him. 

"Don't touch me!" I shrieked, twisting beneath his grip. 

Tyler didn't hesitate to punch me in the nose, spitting, "What the fuck, Iero? Trying to get us in trouble?"

"Fuck you," I growled. I felt warm blood trickle from my nose and pool on my upper lip. "Stay the fuck away from me."

Tyler smirked, "Or what, you'll get your boyfriend to kick our asses?"

I moved past them, getting shoved as I did so. Rushing past the physics room, I made it out the school doors by the time the tardy bell rang. 

I went to the only place I knew, that spot under the bleachers. Ditching my things at the base of the football field, I reached the bleachers. Peeking my head under the metal structure, I saw no one other than my boyfriend lying there. 

He lay on his back, eyes closed. One hand rested limply on his rib cage, the other propped up to hold a cigarette spewing fine smoke. 

He didn't even notice my presence. I turned to leave when I heard over my shoulder, "Frank get back here."

Shit. "How'd  you know it was me?" I crawled over next to him, trying to make myself comfortable on the cold ground. "You had your eyes shut."

"I saw you on the field, numb nuts," Gerard replied. "I may be useless but I'm not stupid."

I dug my nails into the ground, beginning, "Look Gerard, I'm sorry. I think that we're both tired, that I was a little hypersensitive and that me accusing you made you retaliate rashly. I'm sorry it got as far as it did." I waited for him to speak, but he said nothing, only lay there. "I don't know why everything that happened did, but I just know that I felt like shit afterwards. I don't want to feel that way, Gerard, especially not when I think of you." 

Gerard finally sat up, fluttering his eyes open. His eyes widened, and he remarked, "Oh God, Frank, your nose!"

"What?" I questioned. Touching a finger to my upper lip, I felt the blood congealed to my skin. "Oh, yeah. That's nothing."

"Nothing?" Gerard scoffed. He got a tissue from his back, thrusting it into my hands. "Jesus Christ, Frank. What happened?"

Smiling, I pressed the square of Kleenex to my nostrils. "The usual."

"Who did it?" Gerard demanded. "What'd you say?"

Removing the tissue, I turned it around in my hands, examining the dark blood that had stuck to its surface. "I didn't speak; I screamed."

Gerard shook his head, muttering, "Those fuckers."

"Gerard, it's fine," I insisted. 

"No, it isn't," Gerard retorted. "You don't deserve this."

"You're right, I don't. But you know what? You don't deserve to stress over it," I reasoned. I put the tissue by my side, pushing Gerard down onto his back. Laying on his chest, I pleaded, "Just drop it, please?"

I could feel Gerard's chest rise and fall against my cheek. His heartbeat, soft and slow, pulsed against my skin. After a moment's silence, he replied, "Anything for you, babe."


	12. Indie Rokkers

The deadline for my project was rolling around quick. I had heaps and heaps of footage, all uncut. I knew that if I didn't get going on editing now, I'd have a lot late, hard nights leading up to the due date. I decided to get started, inviting Gerard over to help me out. Gerard was also the more techy of the two of us. It wasn't uncommon for me to say technology hated me, and having Gerard on hand would serve as company as well as a makeshift I.T. guy.

He joined me after school, first stopping at a gas station. We pretty much bought the store out of Coke and Cheetos, already knowing that we were looking at a longer night. Gerard let me drive for a change to my house. 

I knew that my mom wouldn't be home, which was perfect. Of course, I was aimed at working on my project, but I was sure a little fun after wouldn't hurt. I was also aware that no such fun would take place with my mother under the same roof. 

We went upstairs to my room and I closed the door behind me as always, even with us being the only ones home. I camped out at my desk, pulling up a chair for Gerard, who took a seat next to me. 

He watched me work, occasionally offering direction if I looked lost. He could tell when I had no idea what I was doing; I'd stare at whatever problem faced me and bite my lower lip. My lips were always chapped because of this, especially in the winter when they sometimes split from the combination of cold and compulsive biting. I wondered why anyone, especially Gerard who had  _the_ softest lips, would want to kiss me. 

Gerard sighed, getting bored soon. He rested his head on my shoulder, groaning, "Are you almost done?"

I shook my head, clicking my mouse. "I want to get a couple hours of film cut tonight."

"How far are you?" 

"About twenty minutes," I replied.

Gerard flung his head back, letting out a prolonged groan. He sit quiet for a moment, then adjusting himself in his chair, making it creak. He placed his chin on my shoulder, remarking, "I like your panties, Frank." 

Heat rose in my cheeks as I pulled my shirt tail down, covering the strawberry covered panties I was wearing. 

Gerard batted my hand away, commenting, "No no, I wasn't making fun of you." Pulling down my jeans slightly, he reassured, "They're hot."

He started to grab at my shirt collar, sliding it down to kiss at my collarbone. I let my head back, fluttering my eyes shut as he started to suck at the skin. 

I ducked my head so he could take my shirt off, bundling it before tossing it to the floor. I shifted over into his lap, then kissing at his neck. 

Muffled moans came from the back of Gerard's throat. He was never vocal when it came to stuff like this, and he refused to give away his sweet spot. He knew that mine was at my jawline on the left side, but I  had yet to discover his. I kissed more aggressively, sucking harder and dragging my teeth against his skin. 

The moans started to get louder, although he kept them quiet still by keeping his jaw wired shut. I rolled my eyes, breathing into his neck, "You can be loud, you know."

Gerard nodded, still making those wimpy, stifled noises. After this went on for another two minutes or so, I waited until he was letting out what seemed like a bigger moan and then grabbed the bottom of his jaw, forcing his mouth open. 

And out came one of the most pornographic moans I've heard in my life. 

Gerard went crazy red, all but squirming out from underneath me to bury his face in an arm. 

I pouted, prodding at him with my head. "Gerard?"

He peeked out at me, lifting his head a bit to meet my eyes. "Don't do that."

"Why not?" I asked. 

"It's embarrassing," he mumbled. "I wouldn't do that to you."

"You're right, I'm sorry," I admitted. I sighed, proceeding, "I just feel like you're holding back, and I don't want you to. I want you to be totally comfortable with me."

He didn't reply, so I nudged him, prompting, "Okay?"

He nodded, "Okay."

Struggling to get him to lighten up, I slid off of him, going back to editing. Pulling my shirt back on, I sighed, resting my chin against my hand as I worked. Gerard just sort of sat there pouting, his bottom lip sticking out. 

"Are you sleeping here?" 

Gerard blinked, replying, "I can." 

"Let's do that," I decided. I grinned, leaning over to peck at his cheek. "Later we can pick up where we left off." 

Gerard finally smiled, sliding closer to me as I finished editing the rest of the material. 

I was almost done when he brought up, "Frankie?"

"Yeah, babe?" 

"I'm sorry about the whole thing with Toro. I know we're trying to move on or whatever, but it was still stupid for me to hide it," he confessed. "We can tell him tomorrow if you want."

I pause, suggesting, "Or we could text him right now."

Gerard considered this, then pulling up Snapchat. "Compromise?" 

We took a selfie together, captioning it "sleepovers with the boyfriend :)". We sent it only to Ray, as well as Mikey and Pete as an afterthought. 

From Pete, we got a selfie that read 'you guys are so cute!' Mikey sent a pouty face, complaining, 'you guys make me wanna see my boy'. But from Ray, we got absolutely nothing. He'd seen the thing; the app said so. For some reason, he just couldn't form a response. 

"Weird," Gerard mutters. "He's usually so fast to snap back."

"You think he's taking it okay?"

Gerard shrugged, murmuring, "I guess all we can do is hope so."


	13. Misery Business

The next morning comes, and still no reply from Ray. Gerard scowls seeing this, muttering, "I'm going to have some choice words for Toro." 

"Gerard, it's not a big deal," I assured. "He probably just forgot to reply or something." 

"Bullshit," Gerard grumbled. "He's getting an earful." 

At lunch that day, Gerard's "earful" was pretty lackluster. As we sat down, he commented, "Toro, why didn't I hear back from you?" 

Ray raised an eyebrow. "When?" 

"Last night, buttplug," Gerard snapped.

"I never got anything," Ray told, taking a bite of his sandwich. 

"Bullshit you didn't; I snapchatted you," Gerard retorted. 

Ray put his food down, reaching for his phone. "Don't take my word, fine." He opened the app to his recent messages, showing our table that Gerard was not on the list. "See it to believe it."

Gerard peered closer, scoffing, "No way." Pulling out his own phone, he opened his Snapchat. "I sent it to a guy named Ray." 

"Well that's not my name on your phone," Ray declared. 

"What do you mean, it's your Snapchat name," Gerard responded.

Ray shook his head, explaining, "No, dumbass. It syncs your contacts to your Snapchat friends. Whatever my contact name is on your phone, that's what my Snap is on there."

Gerard opened his contacts, seeing that Ray's number was actually saved as "Big Fro." He frowned, murmuring, "Then who the hell did I send it to?" 

Not a minute after the words left his lips, I feel my underwear being tugged at. I lean back to try to grab them, only to have the fabric go right up my ass. I hear a voice behind me remark, "Get a load of this: Frank Iero, self proclaimed bad boy, is wearing tighty whities!" He yanked harder, commenting, "Cute!" 

Gerard always made fun of me for wearing what he called tighty whities, which in his book was any kind of brief no matter the color. But this time, I was actually wearing solid white briefs, and it showed by how red I was with embarrassment. 

"Fuck off!" I spat, struggling against him. I could sense what felt like so many eyes on me around the cafeteria, and I absolutely hated it. Of all the days to wear my white underwear. I suppose I could've just been grateful I hadn't opted for panties that morning, but at the moment, I was too humiliated. 

"Hey, let him go!" Gerard barked, glaring at whoever was behind me. He started to stand just as I was released. My ass had been lifted off my seat, leaving my underwear stretched out to maximum capacity. Face still hotter than an inferno, I began to try to tuck my briefs back into my pants. I peeked back to see who it was, except I had no recollection of this boy. He was a complete stranger, and he'd just gotten real personal with me. I already hated everything he stood for. 

"Nice name tag, dork," the kid chuckled. I blushed harder, remembering that my mom had sewn my name into this pair. I gazed around my table to see Gerard looking completely pissed off at this kid while everyone else was dying from second hand embarrassment for me. Pete had his face buried in his hands and wouldn't even look up at anything. 

"What do you want, Ray?" Gerard snarled. "You made your grand entrance." The kid's name was Ray. What his last name was I had no idea, and I didn't care to learn either. I just wanted him gone. 

"I just wanted to let you know that technology is incredible," Ray gushed. He leaned into Gerard's face, adding, "But it has its share of mishaps." He looked from Gerard to me, and then down at Gerard's crotch.

Gerard's eyes got as big as saucers, and I think that by that point, everyone knew whom Gerard had sent the snap to. He narrowed them again, threatening, "Smith I swear to fucking God if you tell anyone I will-" 

"What?" Ray asked, a smirk in his voice. "Kick my ass?" He held his hands mockingly to his chest. 

Gerard held his ground nonetheless, growling, "Maybe, you want to push your luck and find out?" 

"Isn't there a better solution?" Ray questioned. 

"You tell me," Gerard replied. 

Ray got in close once more, telling in a low voice, "You have something I want, and I have something you don't want anyone to see." 

"Are you blackmailing me?" Gerard demanded. 

"Call it negotiation." 

"Gerard, don't bargain with this dickhead," I reasoned. 

Ray turned to face me, grabbing the front of my shirt as he told, "You don't have any other choice." 

"Get your fucking hands off him," Gerard hissed. "You touch him one more time and I will tear you limb from limb." 

Ray did as he was told, practically body slamming me into the back of my chair. "So protective." 

"What do you want?" Gerard sighed. "What, cash? Drugs? Porn? Just say it man, we can figure something out." 

Then that kid said something that I would never expect to come out of his mouth. "Math." "Meth?" Gerard asked. "That's a ways out of my league. I can get you pot or something if you-" "No man, math," Ray enunciated. 

Gerard scowled, "Is this a fucking joke?" 

"Shut up!" Ray snapped. "I'm not good at it, okay? The teacher's not gonna let me pass the way my grade's shaping up and my dad will kill me." 

"And you want me to..." Gerard began.

"Tutor me," Ray insisted. "I need help or I won't be able to fucking pass." 

"I'm no good at math," Gerard noted. 

Ray grimaced, deciding, "Then I guess your little message will just have to go public." 

"Please don't," Gerard begged. "You've seen some of the assholes at this school." 

"I think assholes are more up your alley, Way," Ray snickered. "Look, either help me out or I don't care anymore." 

There was a moment's silence at the table, broken by Mikey piping up, "Frank can help you!" 

I glared at Mikey, mouthing "shut up." 

"Really?" Ray asked.

I shook my head, stammering, "N-no I can't really. I'm-I'm just not good at math." 

"Bullshit, you used to tutor me all the time!" Mikey mentioned. "Frank's a fucking mathematician in all reality." 

"Look, even if I was, I'm not doing it," I snapped. "So just back off!" 

Ray got in my face, asking, "Would you rather the picture go everywhere?" 

"Do it, I don't care," I grumbled. Just as Ray was prepared to walk away, I saw Gerard's face. I saw his knitted brows, his taut lips, but mostly, I saw fear. Fear of what was going to happen if that photo was distributed. "Never mind, I'll do it," I pout. "Just don't fucking touch me." 

"Sounds great," Ray agreed. "See you after school today. Good luck trying to unwedge those tighty whities." 

I blushed once more as he sauntered off. 

"I know that was hard, Frank," Gerard started. He looked at me, telling sincerely, "Thank you."

"This will suck," I groaned. 

"It'll be fine," Mikey assured. "Honestly, it'll go by like nothing." 

There was another time of silence, stopped by Gerard asking, "So, how are you feeling right now?" 

I shrugged, commenting, "Well, my ass burns and my underpants are about three sizes too big now, but other than that, just dandy." This got the guys at my table to laugh, and it took me a while before I finally joined in. Gerard caught my eye once more, mouthing another "thank you."


	14. Common People

It's obvious I wasn't thrilled to meet up with Ray Smith after school. In blatant honesty, I'd rather die in the most excruciating manner possible. Drowning, torture, exposure, you name it. Anything would be better than explaining to that brute how to factor.

Not only was I annoyed, but I was honestly a little frightened. It may have sounded childish, but I was still afraid of him after the whole cafeteria fiasco. Sure, Gerard threatened the kid not to touch me, but that gave no guarantees. Still, I had good reason to be afraid of Ray. Even if he hadn't subjected me to a huge wedgie, he towered over me at six foot three and was probably twice my weight. I wouldn't be surprised if he killed me with his bare hands.

When the time rolled around that I was supposed to meet the buffoon at his locker, I considered pleading with Gerard. I could fluff up how scared I was that Ray would do something to me and get out of the whole thing, easy.

But then I remembered how fearful he had been when the snap being released was a genuine possibility. Gerard hadn't had trouble with regular bullies in how long, but if that photo got into the wrong hands, he surely would.

So I did the whole stupid thing for him. I swallowed my pride and made my way over to locker 201, a firm hand on the waistband of my jeans. 

Ray was already there getting all his shit out of his locker. He took a glance at me but said nothing, continuing to stuff everything in his bag. 

"Um, hey," I muttered. 

"Don't talk to me," Ray grumbled. 

I sighed, snapping, "Fine. I'll just use Morse code to explain the Pythagorean theorem."

Ray growled, "If you talk back like that I'm going to have to smack some sense into you." 

"Lay a finger on me and Gerard will have your head on a stake," I countered. 

He slammed his locker, pulling his bag onto his shoulders. He stormed off, and I stood there, worrying over whether or not that broke our deal. 

"Hey, Iero!" Ray shouted. He stopped, facing me. "You got lead in you or what? Hurry your ass up."

I jogged after him, needing to take a couple steps to keep up with each of his strides. Walking next to him was awful, especially when he was in a beeline for the door. 

I followed him to his car, a beat up red pickup that looked like it could barely stand on its tires. He tossed his bag into the backseat and got in, unlocking the door for me. I climbed in reluctantly, having to hoist myself up into the seat. Clutching my backpack to my chest, I stared forward, trying to disassociate from the entire situation. 

The fucker wouldn't even turn the radio from the country station. That was when I knew that I was in deep shit. 

We arrived at his house, where he pulled up in the driveway. Upon walking in, he told me, "Don't think you're welcome here. I would go to the library but I don't want to be seen with you."

"Gee, thanks," I muttered. "Just get the stupid math homework out." 

We go to the kitchen table, where he gets his assignment in order. About two questions in, he's stuck. I answer a quick question, and he's off and rolling. Four questions later, he doesn't know what to do. I help him through it, bracing myself for more queries. In an assignment thirty questions long, he asked for help over ten times. For some of the problems he had no idea how to do them and needed complete guidance. 

When the dreaded session came to a close, I stood, telling, "I'll see myself out." 

I was almost to the door when I heard over my shoulder, "Hey, Frank." 

I tunrned, gazing at him expectantly. 

"Thanks," he mumbled. "See you at the same time tomorrow?" 

I gritted my teeth, not wanting another one of these godawful tutoring dates. But I knew that Gerard's well being was on the line, so I agreed, "Yep." Stepping outside, I realized I had no means of getting home. Letting go of my dignity for what felt like the trillionth time that day, I ventured back inside to ask for a ride home. 

Ray rolled his eyes but grabbed his keys nonetheless. 

In the short ride to my house, I couldn't help but ask, "Why'd you call me a self-proclaimed bad boy?"

Ray frowned. "What are you talking about?"

I rolled my eyes, reiterating, "A self-proclaimed bad boy? You called me that when you humiliated me in front of my friends, remember?"

Ray shrugged, noting, "I don't know, I just always assumed you thought you were real cool."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded. 

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Ray retorted. "Ditching class to smoke pot, walking around with earbuds in and your head high like you're something special. It's fucking annoying, you know. You're not hot shit." 

"I never said I was," I snarled, becoming angry. 

"You can tell by the way you carry yourself, Iero," Ray replied. "You act like you're fucking Charles Manson or some shit." He looked at me briefly, proceeding, "But you're not. You're just this little weed smoking, tighty whitey wearing, dick sucking faggot that thinks he's better than everyone." He added, almost as an afterthought, "You wonder why everyone picks on you. You absolutely have it coming." 

I closed my eyes, ordering, "Pull over." 

"What?" Ray asked. 

"Pull... the fuck.... over," I repeated through clenched teeth. "Let me out of your truck." 

He did as he was told, pulling to the side of the road. "Whatever, twink. That snapchat is going viral, you know."

"I don't care anymore," I responded. "I do not give a single shit because I don't care what people think anymore. And not because I know I'm tough or bad or whatever you want to call it, but because opinions like that don't fucking matter." I undid my seat belt, adding, "You think I don't know I'm a loser? I wear briefs, I am obsessed with comics, I have Star Wars bed sheets! I can't swim and I like pot and I suck at every sport there is! I know I'm a freak in your book, but I've just learned that books like yours are poorly written." Getting out, I spat, "I fucking hate people like you." Slamming his door shut and turning in the other direction, I heard his tires squeal as he sped off. 

I braced myself for what I knew was coming the next day.


	15. The Giving In

Immediately after my spat with Ray, I felt guilty. Not for shoving it to him and standing my ground, but for what's going to happen tomorrow to not only me, but Gerard as well. 

Amidst all the sinking feelings of general crumminess, I mustered up the courage to call Gerard and tell him how it went. I was obligated to warn him about the next day. 

He picked up after the first ring, embarrassingly eagerly as well. His voice was light and chipper. "Hey, Frank."

"Gerard, hi," I replied. This terrible dread was washing over me in a slow wave, consuming me. My stomach twisted to knots and my throat dried and tightened. 

"What's up?" Gerard asked. There was some sort of garbled noise on his end. Chewing, maybe? I heard the distinct sound of an aluminum snack bag being crinkled. He must be eating. Gerard is always eating. 

"Something came up with Ray," I admitted. "It's not good."

The munching sounds stopped pretty suddenly. "What do you mean?"

"Look, he said some things," I began. "Some real mean things, untrue things, by the way."

"Don't tell me you guys got into it," Gerard pleaded.

I winced, confessing, "We did." 

Gerard audibly groaned. "Fine, I'll just have to smooth things over tomorrow with him, I guess. I wish  you could since you started it, you know."

"Gerard, I don't think you can smooth this over," I told.

"Jesus Christ Frank, what'd you say?" Gerard demanded.

I bit my lip, deciding, "It wasn't what I said that pissed him off, but my reaction. The shit coming out of his  mouth was far worse than anything from mine." I paused, realizing, "I guess I did tell him I hate people like him."

"Shit, Frank!" Gerard snapped. 

I flinched, apologizing, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!"

"It doesn't matter whether you meant to or not, because you fucking did," Gerard barked. 

I started to cry, and I worked hard to hide any signs that I was breaking down into tears as I retorted, "You don't have to talk to me like that."

Gerard's voice softened as he replied, "Frank, are you crying?"

I didn't respond, giving him the benefit of the doubt. But then again, Gerard knew me far too well for any of that saving face bullshit. "Frankie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm not upset with you, I'm just..."

"Worried," I cried. "Worried about tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?" Gerard questioned.

I sniffled, "The photo will be halfway around the school by then. So have fun now while you can."

Gerard didn't answer for a long time. I didn't say anything either. There was just this long, uninterrupted silence. I like to think that it was a comfortable one, but it was really  more contemplative. And not even contemplative of a good thing; we were considering all the various possibilities for our ass kickings the next day.

Finally, Gerard said, "It's worth it, you know."

"Hm?"

"You, you're worth it," Gerard decided. "It'll be okay, because I know that if I get a little too fucked, I can go to you. Like a crash pad, you  know. Things go sour but you make it better. I've never had someone like that in my life, Frank."

"Me neither," I agreed. "We'll just have to see this one out, I guess."

Gerard chuckled, "I suppose."

"Alright, later man. I'm going to go to bed pretty soon here," I informed. 

"Goodnight, Frank." Gerard wished. "Get some rest for tomorrow."

"You too, buddy." 

I was just about to hang up when I heard Gerard say in a very small voice, "Frankie?"

"Yeah?"

"I love  you," Gerard told.

I hardly blinked. "I love you too."

I hung up the phone, setting the device on my chest. Gerard Way was my first I love you. He wasn't the first time I said it to another person (excluding relatives of course), but he was the first time that I uttered the words and truly meant them. It was like having one good fuck after years of disappointing one night stands. I regained that honesty that I once had; Gerard gave that back to me. For that, I was forever grateful.

The next morning was not a stressful one, surprisingly enough. I woke up, later than I hoped for, as usual. I walked to school, leaving the camera behind for the first time in weeks. I still had editing to do, but luckily for me, if I kept a fair pace it'd be done in time. I didn't think about the whole filming thing too much anymore. At first I was really into the whole idea of documenting everything, but after a while, life just sort of... happens. And there's no waiting for the perfect natural lighting, no finding the appropriate camera mode, and most importantly, no retakes. While life may give you the chance to right your wrongs, those wrongs will still follow you to the grave. You can mitigate what damage you've already done, but you can't take it back. Oh, you can never take it back. 

I met Gerard outside the school. His nose was burrowed into the front collar of his parka, his flushed cheeks and clear eyes peeking out at me. 

"Hey," I greeted. 

He chattered his teeth in response. 

Rolling my eyes, I stepped inside, having him follow suit. He started to peel off his layers as we made our way down to breakfast, where eyes stared daggers. 

"They're looking at us, not through us," Gerard assured.

"Pretty sure these kids are looking right through me," I insisted. 

Gerard shook his head. "Looking through someone means you understand. Not that you sympathize necessarily, but that you have a grasp of who they are and what they go through." Gerard scowled at them. "They're looking at us."

We sat down with Ray, Pete, and Mikey. Mikey was buried in a console, Pete watching over his shoulder, and Ray was just taking his time eating his cereal. I sat down warily, Gerard plopping next to me. 

"Aren't you guys popular?" Ray joked. 

"Yeah, this is what Kennedy must've felt like," Gerard grumbled.

Pete gazed up from Mikey's screen, asking, "Is it...  _bad_ to be gay?"

"Peter, don't be stupid," I scoffed.

"No, I mean like at this school," Pete clarified. "If Mikey and I come out, will they stare at us like that?"

I was considering this, while Gerard merely replied, "Pete you guys are already a done deal. Everyone knows you're together and they don't really care. But see, these kids never liked me to begin with. Or Frank, no offense," Gerard told, glancing at me. "They're going to make fun of me no matter what. And this just happens to be a hot subject."

Mikey scrunched his nose. "How does everyone know about Pete and I?"

"Um, you guys are the reigning kings of PDA," Ray pointed out. 

We all nodded in agreement. As someone walked by, I felt a rough hand grab at the back of my neck, hitting a pressure point and making my joints lock. 

Great, it's already started. 


	16. Protect Ya Neck

Gerard shot me a look once he saw me tense up. He didn't say anything with all of our friends sitting there, but I could tell what he was thinking. I squeezed his knee under the table, ceasing its wild, anxious bouncing. 

Mikey poked at his omelet, this flap of dry eggs with a slice of radioactive cheese over it. He murmured, "I think you guys should be careful today."

"What's the worst that can happen?" Pete asked. 

"KNOCK ON WOOD!" Gerard shouted, rapping his knuckles on the table. 

I rolled my eyes, cursing, "Goddamn it, Pete" as I tapped too. 

The table all joined in for a few solid seconds, arousing more attention from the rest of the cafeteria. Once we decided Pete's jinx was undone, we all settled back into eating or swiping through our phones. 

"I have to edit after school again," I complained. "At least it won't be as long as last time; if I do an hour or so every other couple days it should be done on time." 

Ray chuckled, "You make it sound like a chore."

I raised an eyebrow. "A chore?"

"Yeah, a chore," Pete pitched in. "You know, like cleaning out your dresser drawers, mowing your lawn..." Pete ducked his head, smiling coyly as he added, "Having sex with Gerard."

Gerard leaned across the table to punch Pete in the arm, who cringed and clutched a hand to the afflicted area. He pouted, lying his head on Mikey's shoulder. 

Checking his phone for the time, Gerard groaned, "I have to go to class soon. I'll see you guys." He stood, and I did as well, wanting anything but to be left alone. Or for that matter, away from Gerard. 

I walked Gerard to his class, clutching my backpack straps until my knuckles whitened. My jaw was tight as was my stomach. About every muscle as well as every vertebrae were locked with nerves. I felt like a robot I was so stiff. 

"Alright, so I'll see you at lunch?" Gerard asked. 

I nodded, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. 

Gerard eased my chin up with his hand, comforting, "Hey, it'll be alright." He bit his lip, deciding, "We can do something fun when we ditch during gym."

I perked up at that, prompting, "Care to elaborate?"

Gerard leaned in close, whispering sultrily, "It'll just have to be a surprise." He bit at my earlobe before pulling away, hoisting his bag up further onto his back as he left for class. 

I was about to turn as Gerard hooked back around the corner, telling, "By the way, Frank?"

"Yeah?"

Gerard held a finger pistol at me, shooting it as he instructed, "Protect ya neck."

I rolled my eyes at Gerard's endless Wu Tang references. Believe it or not, Gerard was known to listen to rap on occasion. Of course no one knew this; he was too goth or emo or whatever label people conveniently slapped on him to be into anything upbeat. 

I started down the corridor to my own class, noting that I had an entire five minutes before the first bell even rang. Five whole minutes of waiting before a bell told me to get moving. Dropping my jaw in an attempt to loosen it, I suddenly felt the chocolate milk I'd downed reach my bladder. Rushing to a restroom, I snagged a urinal and undid my fly, going as quickly as I could to try to get out of there. 

I finished with no one in sight, tucking myself back in and zipping up my pants. Flushing with my elbow, I crossed to the sinks, peering at myself in the mirror. 

Shit, I looked pale. I tried not to wig myself out as much as I had been, taking a little more time lathering up my hands. Bringing my eyes back to the mirror, I saw a huddle of boys enter the bathroom behind me. 

The doors to these were always propped open with those plastic wedges, which annoyed me to no end. Although my junk was out of sight, something about passersby being able to see me go always unsettled me. I could always opt for a stall, but nine times out of ten they would be uninhabitable or a kid would try to kick it in. 

The thing was, the guys grabbed that little wedge and pushed it to the side, swinging the heavy door shut. My stomach clenched as I rinsed, drying off my hands on the legs of my pants. 

I moved to the door, almost breaking past the guys when a hand gripped my shoulder. "Hey faggot, you got a minute?"

I broke out in a cold sweat, trying to push past when I was grabbed tighter. The kid then clutched the back of my neck, spinning me to press my forehead into the tile wall, his hand around my neck pinning me there. I struggled against him even though I knew it was useless. I wasn't sure if that gave him more satisfaction or more trouble, but either way, I was going to put up somewhat of a fight. 

He leaned close to me and spat, "You are a fucking freak, Iero. You're even worse than that fucking rat boyfriend of yours." 

"Shut up," I growled. 

He grinned, reeling me back before smacking my head into the wall. I swear I saw stars. He asked, "Still feeling resistant?" 

Amidst the pounding through my head, I managed, "Yes."

He slammed my head in a couple more times, each making a sickening, wet thud. Being a bathroom, I assumed the wet sound was due to the grimy walls. However, I later found out it was from my blood. 

He let me fall to the floor, kicking me in the side once. I let out a groan, tending not only to my throbbing skulls but also to my ribs. I heard them shuffle out, felt the gust of air blow past me as that heavy oak door swung shut. I rolled onto my back, laying there for what felt like a century. I only stood when I heard the first bell, and even then it was only so a teacher or student wouldn't find me there on the nasty floor. 

Stumbling to the sinks, I gazed into the bloody wound that had formed in my right temple. I splashed cool water on it, wincing as I did so. I held a paper towel to the spot as I made my way to the nurse for a wrap, who was always full of questions. 

"What happened?"

"I slipped in the bathroom and hit my head."

"And just how did you do that?"

"The floor was wet."

The exchange always ended with her giving a toned "Mmm-hmm," evidence that she doubted me. Then again, she was right to. I imagined I wasn't the only kid to go in there with some injury paired with a shitty excuse. Back in the day she'd gotten quite a few visits from Gerard. 

She gave me an ice pack along with Tylenol to help with the pain. I thanked her, but she didn't reply, just help her lips taut with her watery blue eyes all big and sympathetic. 

I left, texting Gerard, "I protected my neck but not my head."


	17. Hallelujah

Gerard was usually pretty quick about answering text messages, but I knew that he'd put this one on hold. He was in math that period, and our upper level math teacher was easygoing about everything but cellphones. If your phone went off in class, it was hers. She even recommended you leave it in your locker if you couldn't resist the temptation. 

Gerard didn't do that, but he did turn it off and leave it banished in a pocket of his bag. He wouldn't dare using it, not with losing the thing on the line. Besides, Gerard was never one for making trouble, at least not when he could help it. 

Sure enough, Gerard texted me back not long after first hour was let out. The message read: Frank are you okay?

I replied: yeah, got a concussion screeing @ the nurses office and some tylenol, ice, gauze etc.

Gerard: what happened?

Me: i'll tell you later...

Gerard: urgh!! 

I returned my phone to my pocket, rolling my shoulders back. He'd just have to wait. I never liked sharing a whole lot of personal information via the internet or even text messaging. This was in part because of my need for face to face contact, but also because of my firm belief in the hacker group Anonymous. I knew that they were considered the good guys, but they still didn't need to know that some boy from New Jersey wet his bed until he was eleven. 

Gerard met me under the bleachers as always, biting his nails. When he caught my eye, he jumped up, rushing over to me. "Oh, god. What happened?"

I shrugged, mumbling, "Just some guys." 

Gerard frowned, demanding, "Who was it?"

I sighed, "I don't know, and I don't want you to find out."

"Why not?" 

"Because I don't want you getting hurt!" I replied. " _One_ guy did this to me Gerard, out of like four!" I sat down, muttering, "I can only imagine the damage had the whole group participated."

Gerard sat down too, resigned. "I just wish there was something I could do."

"You can be there for me," I retorted. "Instead of focusing on breaking their legs, you can try to make me feel better."

He stroked the side of my cheek, telling, "Of course, baby." 

I shivered, prompting Gerard to ask, "Cold?"

I nodded, teeth chattering. "It's getting too damn cold for this shit."

"Winter's visiting Old Jersey," Gerard agreed. He rose, brushing the grass off the seat of his pants. "Come on, let's go."

"Where?" I asked. "It's not like we can just waltz into the school." 

But that's just what we did. Gerard considered going to gym, but they had already started and he wasn't in the mood to tailor a lame excuse. So instead we hung around in the lunchroom, which was empty during the hour. 

Towards the end of the hour, Gerard asked, "So, do you want me to help with editing after school?" 

I smiled, nodding, "Yeah, I'd like that." 

"Good," Gerard muttered. He stood, stealing a peck on the cheek before heading off, calling, "See you at lunch." 

Throughout the day, hardly anyone asked about my head injury, surprisingly enough. It wasn't that the other kids didn't notice; I got my bit of stares. They just didn't care. Not to mention, I would've attracted stares regardless due to the whole thing with the Snapchat photo. The bloodied gauze wrapped around my head was just a bonus. 

Although no one else seemed to, Pete had plenty of questions about it in the cafeteria. He shoveled forkfuls of food into his mouth, asking between face fulls, "So who did that?"

I shrugged, admitting, "I don't know."

Pete didn't blink, just proceeded, "How?"

"He slammed my head into the bathroom wall," I answered. "I literally saw stars." 

This seemed to satisfy Pete; he grunted and didn't ask anymore questions. Mikey was quiet as always, and Ray kept trying to change the subject. Ray didn't like to talk about these things. Whatever the topic, if it wasn't good news, Ray would dance around it. He wasn't the type for conflict, and so he avoided it whenever he could. I didn't mind though; I was glad to have my mind off of the oozing chip in my forehead, which was starting to ache as the Tylenol wore off. 

Gerard came over to my house, promising to buckle down and get some editing done before doing anything else. For once, he actually did as he was told. The problem still existed where he wasn't much help though, so for the most part, I goofed around with cutting footage and Gerard lounged on my bed. 

I joined him after getting in some good video, curling up next to him. I wrapped an arm around him, planting a kiss on his lips. I tore away his blazer, my own following. Pulling his shirt over his head, then removing his pants, followed by my slacks and button up, we ended up doing, well,  _it._ It didn't last long as we were both virgins, but it was definitely something special. 

We lay there after, Gerard stringing a hand through my hair as he absently rubbed at his crotch. 

I gazed over, smirking. "Something I can help you with?' 

Gerard's eyes followed mine and he smiled as well. Removing his hand, he explained, "It's just a warm, comfortable resting space."

"Sure," I replied jokingly. I set my head on his chest, matching his breathing. 

Gerard sighed contently. He noted, "You upgraded to boxer briefs." 

"Yeah," I murmured, blushing a little.

"I mean, you look good in them and all, but I kinda miss the briefs," Gerard confessed. 

"What?" I laughed. "You gave me so many headaches about those!"

"I was just teasing," Gerard pouted. "You've got the legs for them, Frank. And the ass. And the uh..." his eyes flicked briefly to my lower region before meeting mine again, finishing, "You know."

We lay there quiet for a while, Gerard asking, "Frank, now that you're qualified to answer, is having sex with me a chore?"

I sat up, smiling at him. "Anything but. It is a privilege,  Gerard." 

He rolled his eyes, so I forced him to look at me once more. Lowering to kiss the center of his chest, I grabbed his hands, assuring, "It's an honor." 


	18. I Think I'm Moving Forward

Gerard ended up going home before my mom came over. Already tired of dealing with the whole head injury, I slipped a beanie over the bandages to avoid having to lie to her. I didn't like lying to my mom when I didn't have to. For that matter, I didn't like lying to anyone when I didn't have to.   
I came to school the next morning braced for wave two of bullshit. I walked with my head low and avoided bathrooms for the day. However, I didn't run into any problems. At lunch I asked Gerard if he had, which he hadn't. Either that or he was just lying, but he had no visible signs of being roughed up. Was it already over? Or was this just the eye of the hurricane?  
"That's fucking weird," I muttered.   
Mikey shrugged, commenting, "I dunno, man. Maybe everyone's just used to it now."  
"That was a damn quick adjustment time," I replied.  
"Maybe it was," Gerard said with a wink.   
I nodded, agreeing, "I really hope so."  
I didn't feel safe to walk home, so again I rode with Gerard to edit more film. Thanks to the extra time I'd been putting in, the project was coming to a close. I just had to work on my conclusion, which was the hardest part. I mean, stringing together roughly twenty-two minutes of adolescent nonesense as a coherent whole was quite the challenge.   
As I always did when faced with a problem, I turned to Gerard. "So what sholuld I end the video with?"  
"A narrative," Gerard answered.   
"No shit, Sherlock," I giggled. "Any bright ideas on what the narrative should say?"  
Gerard thought for a bit, then admitting, "I would just bullshit a lotta cheese about how important my friends are to me."  
I puffed my cheeks out, complaining, "You call it cheese but I'm being serious."   
Gerard chuckled, "You are a mushy, sentimental, hopeless romanitc, Frank." He kissed me on the cheek, hugging me as he added, "And I love you for it."  
I jokingly pushed him away, telling, "Not now, Daddy has to work."   
"I thought I was Daddy," Gerard responded sultrily.   
I shoved him playfully, scolding, "Seriously, I'm so close to finishing. Just let me get this done then you can do all that."  
Gerard pouted, resting his chin on my shoulder as I finished my work, minus the dialogue at the end. 

"Finally," Gerard groaned dramatically. He swung a leg over me, bringing himself into my lap. Bringing his arms over my shoulders, he kissed me, smirking against my lips. I gripped around the waistband of his boxers, tracing my fingernails underneath the elastic. 

Gerard was quick to get his shirt off, letting it drop to the floor. He worked on unbuttoning mine, locking eyes with me as he did so. He grinned as he pulled the fabric off of me, revealing my chest and stomach. 

He started sucking at my neck, and for a brief moment I was overly conscious of the fact that I'd have to lie about the hickeys he was leaving. He slowly made his way down to my chest, taking one nipple in his mouth. I moaned, letting my head fall back. I took a heavy stroke at my crotch as the lap of my pants tightened. 

He unzipped my fly, reaching a hand inside my pants and through the slot of my boxer briefs, which I wore in spite of him. He got me off right there, actually going to completion unlike the times before. 

We lay around in my bed like we always did, and he actually confessed, "Ray told me today that he took the picture down."

I couldn't believe what I'd heard. "The snap?"

Gerard nodded. "He's still kind of pissed at you, but I guess something, or someone, gave him a change of heart."

"No wonder it died down," I mumbled. 

"Smooth sailing from here on out, baby," Gerard assured. 

I made the okay symbol, and trying to match his lingo, agreed, "Far out, man."

Gerard laughed so hard he snorted. 

"What?" I demanded, half-chuckling myself. Nothing was funny to me except for how hard Gerard was laughing. 

Gerard, between more laughter and gasps of air, questioned, "What was that?!"

"Stop!" I laughed, putting my weight against him. 

He eventually did settle down, easing back under the covers. I snuggled up against him, warming myself. 

We lay quiet, just listening to each other breathe. Our breaths were staggered; Gerard always took long breaths. He claimed it was because he had the lungs of a singer, but I usually called bullshit.

We ended up falling asleep just like that, all entwined with each other. We woke up that way too, around 7 in the morning. Between showering together and eating breakfast, we couldn't find time to swing by Gerard's house, leaving him without a clean uniform. 

"I'll just wear what I wore yesterday," Gerard decided, grabbing his bundled slacks from the floor. 

I snatched the pants from him, telling, "Oh no you aren't. These have a HUGE jelly stain on them, mister!" 

"Like anyone would notice!" Gerard sputtered. 

I rifled through my dresser, tossing a pair of clean slacks at Gerard. "Put these on."

Gerard examined the tag, noticing, "Frank these are too short for me."

I looked at him with my eyebrows raised. "Well you either wear those and expect a flood, or wear the others and be a slob." 

Gerard scowled, pulling the pants up over his boxers reluctantly. The cuffs barely reached his ankle. 

"Looks good," I decided, grabbing his hand. "Let's go."

Gerard trailed behind me all the way to school, where we joined everyone at the lunch table. 

"Gerard, why weren't you home last night?" Mikey asked. 

Gerard sat down, replying, "What do you think? I was over at Frank's."

"Ooooh," Pete mused. "I bet you guys did it."

Gerard laughed, whereas I turned pink and stammered, "Shut up!"

"You know they did!" Pete chortled, clapping his hands together. 

Ray merely rolled his eyes, proposing, "My parents are out of town for the weekend. Thinking of having a little get together tonight, who's in?"

The whole table raised their hands all at once without further questions. I was surprised at both Gerard and myself for agreeing to go so eagerly. Maybe Gerard was coming out of his shell a little, which meant I must have been, too. 


	19. Smells Like Teen Spirit

Toro’s little get together ended up being so much more than what he had let on. It started small with about a dozen people, but the party grew almost exponentially. Gerard and Frank were having more fun at this party than any other, but the crowd was a bit overwhelming. They headed downstairs, Ray, Mikey, and Pete in tow, to play some party games.

“Alright, what are we playing?” Ray asked.

“Spin the bottle!” Pete shouted.

Mikey socked him in the arm, hissing, “Not with my brother playing!”

“Besides, there’s no girls around down here,” Ray told. “How about Twister?”

“I’m wearing skinny jeans,” Frank complained.

“Yeah, also I,” Gerard noted, gazing down at his tight pants.

“I pulled something in gym class the other day,” Pete muttered.

Mikey chipped in, “I can’t even touch my toes, man.”

“Dear god, it’s like you guys hate fun,” Ray chuckled.

“Truth or Dare?” Frank suggested. “That’s always a good one.”

Pete flopped to the floor, crossing his legs. “Let’s do it.”

The others lowered themselves to the ground laboriously, stiff joints grinding as they sat down. Situated, they looked around at each other before Mikey demanded, “Well, who’s going first?”

“I got one!” Pete squeaked. “Gerard, truth or dare?”

Gerard glanced at me briefly, deciding, “Truth.” He knew that Pete was classified as a Slytherin of all the Harry Potter Houses, so he could get pretty nasty.

Pete grinned evilly. “Are you a top or bottom?”

Gerard sat agape, his cheeks turning pink. “Bottom.”

Pete laughed, “Toro I fucking _told_ you!”

Ray fished five dollars from his pocket, mumbling, “Yeah, yeah” as he passed it over to Pete.

Gerard scoffed. “You guys are betting about… how did you even…. You know what, I don’t want to know.”

“Your turn ya filthy subdominant,” Pete smirked.

Mikey sat with his hands clasped over his ears, yelling at Pete, “There is a sibling barrier!”

Gerard smiled, asking, “Peter, truth or dare?”

Pete perked up, answering carefully, “Dare.”

“I dare you…” Gerard began. Gazing around the room, he finished, “I dare you to strip to your skivvies.”

“One minute,” Pete mumbled. He took a long drink of beer, shuddering, “Okay now I’m ready.” He peeled off his shirt, followed by his pants. He sat there in Star Wars boxers and a black tank top. Cheeks slightly red, he demanded, “Are you happy?”

Gerard nodded, pleased with himself.

Pete turned to Mikey. “Truth or dare, babe?”

“Truth,” Mikey chose.

“Ugh, so boring,” Pete groaned. He thought for a moment, then asking, “You ever masturbated thinking about me?”

“GROSS!” Toro objected, throwing his half full cup of beer at Pete. It splashed across the teen’s chest and lap, making it look like he wet himself. Frank crumpled his empty cup and lobbed it at Pete’s head, where it made contact, and Gerard tossed a shoe at him, reminding, “SIBLING BARRIER!”

“Geez!” Pete chuckled, cowering. “Alright, alright, new game. This one got a bit off tracks.”

“Thanks to you,” Frank pointed out.

Pete shook his head, grinning nonetheless. “Whatever man.” He leaned over and nipped at Mikey’s neck, purring something into his ear.

“We uh… better get going; it’s getting late,” Mikey stammered, grabbing Pete’s hand. Tugging down the front hem of his shirt, he told, “Pete, grab your clothes.”

Pete did as he was told, gathering everything. He crossed over to retrieve his belt, which had been airborne not long ago and landed by Frank. Pete told Frank with a smile, “Nice hickeys, Iero.”

Frank blushed for the first time since the game started, hiking up the collar of his shirt.

“Pete, keep your bony shenanigans off of the sofa this time, eh?” Gerard said with a wink.

Pete didn’t actually look embarrassed, just laughed. “Sure thing, Gerard.”

The two left, and Toro claimed, “You two are probably gonna head out too, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess we better,” Gerard muttered. He stood, pulling Frank up by the arm. “See you Monday, Toro.”

“Later, guys!” Ray called.

“How come we split so early?” Frank asked.

Gerard raced out of the house, head low. Under his breath, he replied, “I don’t know about you, but that game made me horny as shit.”

Frank smiled, following Gerard to the car.

As Gerard drove, Frank snaked a hand over to Gerard’s lap, stroking his inner thigh and squeezing it.

Gerard whimpered slightly, wiggling against Frank. “Not now, I’m driving.”

“You seem to be enjoying it,” Frank notes, nodding towards Gerard’s erection.

Finally pulling into the driveway, Gerard bats Frank’s hand away, growling, “You should learn to listen to me better.”

He got out without another word. Frank tailed him inside, asking, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Gerard answered. Leading him down to the basement, he suggested, “How about a safe word?”

“Alabama,” Frank decided. “That’s the safe word.”

Gerard grabbed Frank by the wrist, leading him over to the bed. Gerard sat swiftly, bringing Frank over his knee. He ordered, “Pull your pants down.”

Frank did as he was told, struggling with his belt before finally undoing it. He brought his skinny jeans down, leaving them hooked around his ankles. Frank happened to be wearing a pair of pink American Apparel briefs. Gerard traced the leg of the underwear, remarking, “They’re pink, how cute. Your ass is going to be pink.”

Frank’s heart started beating in his chest as Gerard adjusted the briefs, turning them into more of a thong in order to expose Frank's bare hind end. He gave Frank a couple of good swats before Frank grunted, “Alabama.”

Gerard readjusted Frank’s underwear, pulling them back over to cover Frank’s ass. “I hope you learned your lesson.”

Frank swallowed, nodding timidly. He stood, pulling up his pants. “Gerard, that was kinky as shit.”

Gerard blushed, stammering, “I-It was uh… just something I wanted to try.” He paused, pouting as he added, “And I don’t like people making bets that I’m a bottom.”

Frank hugged him, reminding, “They only mean it in good fun.”

“It’s embarrassing,” Gerard insisted. “Like, emasculating or something.”

Frank chuckled, “It’s not like either of us were ever fixing cars or chopping lumber to begin with.”

“That’s not true! I can be manly,” Gerard murmured.

Frank giggled, “Gerard, you have a basket full of bath bombs.”

Gerard finally laughed, agreeing, “Yeah, masculinity never was my thing.”

Frank lay down, wrapping Gerard’s arms around himself. “Yeah,” he agreed. “It’s overrated anyways.”

 


End file.
